


Basta Mafia

by Vlad_the_Impala



Category: Zdob și Zdub
Genre: Multi, superhero au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-14
Updated: 2013-07-14
Packaged: 2017-12-20 04:32:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 61,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/882975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vlad_the_Impala/pseuds/Vlad_the_Impala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ever wondered what would happen if the Zdob Si Zdub songs - at least some - came true? If the Mafia became their main villain, or if the 'Frati Mai Mari' Romanians attacked them?<br/>The mysterious superpowers are not always the thing for square guys from the comics. There once were six musicians of quite different build, and they lived in a country not every one would like. And they weren't made for fighting for their country or even their loved ones. But once they were superheroes they had no other choice...<br/>A superhero AU, but do not hurry to laugh.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

…Sveatoslav exhaled and looked up at the clear sky. The wave of his warm breath turned into a little wet cloud in the freezing air and quickly disappeared. He squinted a little at the pure, almost turquoise brightness and exhaled again, glanced at another little cloud as it dissolved, then ruffled his own ginger hair. He was sitting quietly, unmoving, for a moment or two, before suddenly roaring and standing to his feet with one sharp move.

\- Damn it…

Roman turned to him, looking away from the faraway line of the old fortified wall. It was visibly damaged in some places and clearly re-built not so long ago. The bricks were all of different colour and in different condition, some of them old, they remembered this fortress’ entire history, and some brand new, so the wall looked unusually spotty.

\- How I fuckin’ hate this all! – Sveatoslav kicked a stone and then turned to the wall he’d just been leaning against and struck it with his fist fiercely.

\- Slava, calm down, - Roman tried, but Sveatoslav turned to him sharply.

\- What calm down? Just fuckin’ sit here and watch those bastards sell our country, sell our pride, – sell our everything?! Goddamn…

He choked and didn’t finish. He swallowed hard and hit the wall again before bending a little towards it and touching its cold surface with his forehead.

It must have calmed his fury a little, but he continued, quietly this time:

\- I’m tired, Roma. I’m honestly tired of the fact that this freaking wall won’t let me see the horizon. I’m tired of the constant danger. I’m tired of our weakness. I’m tired of being a failure, Roma.

Roman stood up and came up to his friend.

\- Listen, - he started gently. – Stop this stuff with the failure. You didn’t fail. We all know what happened. I’m tired of our weakness – of my own weakness – as well, and you know how I hate being weak, especially in front of you, but that’s just how it goes now. We’ll have our chance, okay? Just let Zdob Şi Zdub become a little stronger. Just a little. We’re not just sitting here, you know? We’re all working, all together. Give it some time.

Sveatik sniffed. His tight fist unclasped and the hand in the black glove fell down weakly.

\- How much more?

Roman put his hand on his friend’s shoulder.

\- Slav. Nobody knows now. We will find out. We will have a chance.

And, seeing that Sveatik wasn’t convinced, he added, half-questioningly:

\- I promise.

Sveatoslav gave a short laugh and looked down, but when he glanced back up at Roma, something in his eyes was softer.

\- I’ll believe you for now.

\- Guys!

The shout startled them both and they turned their heads to the sound simultaneously. Mihai was running towards them, quickly approaching. Worry was written all over his face. Roman’s smile fell as he turned and hurried towards Mihai.

\- Hey! – he waved his hand. – What happened, hey?!

Mihai stopped in front of him, just a step away, and looked in his eyes. And that’s for the first time probably Roman noticed fright in his stare.

\- Mish… - he started – and couldn’t continue. Sveatik came up to them – and stopped, looking from one of the guys to another in search of an answer to his unasked question.

\- Roma. Slava. A spy, - Mihai exhaled. – A spy in the system.

The corners of his lips gave out his fright for a moment, before he bit his lower lip, trying desperately to calm down.

\- A spy? – Sveatoslav raised his eyebrows. – Wait just a minute, you serious?

Mihai just nodded.

\- Terrible, - Sveatik stated. – When did they catch him?

\- They didn’t, - Mihai said, leaning forward and putting his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. – They caught a fellow with a coded report, but he swears to God he knows nothing. I don’t even know what to think.

\- What spy? – Roma inquired.

\- Must be the Mafia’s, - Mihai straightened. But that’s not the most terrible thing. There’s one much worse, and y’all gotta know.

Roma examined his face tensely, before dropping:

\- What?

\- That, - Mihai answered, and badly hidden fright slipped in his voice. – We have a spy. We don’t know who it is. And they suspect you.

Roma frowned a little, not understanding – or not believing.

\- Wait a minute… me? They suspect me? Do I understand you right that the Basta Mafia think that I am the spy?

Mihai could only nod before quietly, automatically repeating:

\- Roma. The crowd has gathered. They’re actually sure that it’s you.


	2. How it all began

Part one. One Look Back.

Chapter 1. How it all began

In fact the City of C – what city, the entire Moldovanshire! – had known much better times. And that’s putting it lightly to say that they were much better. And even though years passed since the disaster nobody had forgotten.

It happened eighteen years before. One calm and quiet grey morning, which quickly and unexpectedly turned into red. The morning they would never forget.

That day was carved in Roman’s heart forever. The massacre itself was an undistinguishable mass of brick red and grey in the past. A few bright moments of scarlet – the most painful deaths. The most terrible cries. That was the day when he was left on the debris, with just a few scratches – lucky guy, - but frightened – and lonely. He was merely twenty by then. The sun was setting and once peaceful and beautiful City C was already ruined. The sunset was like fire and the rays of the bright orange sun were caressing the debris and the people who were now forever calm. And with their last careless warmth they touched the guy who was sitting – alive among the dead. Alone he was looking at the horizon – looking at the back of the leaving disaster.

Those were seconds – hours – of quiet despair. He didn’t know if anybody else was alive – and he was too afraid to get up and go look for survivors. He was too scared that he would find none.

He remembered how he was sitting there losing all the thoughts slowly. He remembered the orange eye of the setting sun – the empty eye, slowly closing, leaving him completely alone on the battlefield. He remembered how he just lay down and closed his eyes not to see anything or anybody.

And then – then he remembered two pairs of hands holding him and shaking him. And the blurred sight of two familiar faces. One – in the frame of dark curly hair and beard. Concerned. The face of the man who rarely laughed in front of people. Mihai’s face. It was clear – Mihai usually managed to avoid being hit. And the other one was in the goldish ginger frame. Sveatoslav’s hair was a mess, there was blood on his face, he was all scratched and bruised, but there was a look of genuine relief and happiness on his face. And then – tens, no, probably hundreds of eyes staring at him. That’s when Romka knew he wasn’t alone. And that was the only time in his life when he let go of himself and fell unconscious. He promised himself then that he would never again show a trace of weakness. Ever.

***

Not a single city is ruined without a purpose. And there was a reason for that massacre of the City C. There were new people who came to rule the capital of Moldovanshire – unknown people, strange people. The Mafia.

God knows where they had been nesting before – or rather everybody knew but they did nothing about it. Those in power were not better and the little people always thought they were too little. And the Mafia were webbing in no hurry, like spiders, killing anybody who would try to – even – argue. All that time, seemingly. They were so well prepared. They were calm. They were stronger and they knew it. And then one day – the web was finished. It was done, covering entire Moldovanshire – once a normal country that knew its highs and lows, and now a poor piece of land, lying in ruins and ruled by Mafia. They had their person organize the people who were against those in power wholeheartedly, made a pact with them – and then, with their own agreement, God knows with what creepy technology, they took their memories from them, making them an army that could defeat everybody. The Grey Army of millions.

But there was one thing that the Mafia leaders didn’t know about. They would think that was impossible, because their reign made sure everybody was an obedient animal. But they weren’t almighty as they thought they were. They didn’t know that on the ruins of City C, in the old fortress that even the Grey invaders couldn’t break, there was a core of the future power – the power of the protesters, of the survivors, of the people who wouldn’t let Mafia sell Moldovanshire.

That organization was named simply and powerfully.

It was named ‘Basta Mafia!’

***

It was actually all Mihai’s idea. Strategy turned out to be the man’s strong side. And it was him who gathered all the survivors together in the old fortress. Everybody listened to him eyes wide, and Roman, looking up at him from under the improvised stage, was surprised with his old friend’s sudden passion. That was completely new Mihai, not the fellow he knew from school and university, but a wise Mihai, a strategist Mihai – and Roma saw that only that Mihai could be a leader who would guide the leftovers of once powerful nation.

The oldest and the wisest were to rule – and those were Bunica and Bunelul. Of course, that grandma and granddad had their names, but to the Basta Mafia they were known simply as that – every leader ever had a nickname, after all. And Mihai was the ideologist of it all, he worked daily nightly and finally life in the old fortress came to its full swing. It came back.

Under the constant menace, in permanent danger, people managed to build themselves new lives – or restore old ones. And it wasn’t only thanks to Mihai. All the people of Moldovanshire were like that: they kept on. No matter what. They rebuilt the old fortified wall so that it could protect them better in case of an attack. They made the fortress their new home, they built a town inside of it – or maybe rather a village. And they kept on – and even quite happily. Mafia didn’t know about them – or at least didn’t care, perhaps they thought that such a crowd couldn’t be a real force. And the Basta Mafia kept gathering the survivors – some of them were from City C, some from outside, some were found wandering in the woods or fields and some came to the fortress itself and knocked at the gate. Those who didn’t want to sell their country were gathering together, and as their little community – or their tribe, as Roma sometimes called them, - was growing, the old fortress was growing slowly as well. A few houses turned into a village, and the village resembled more and more of a little town.

But they rarely ventured into the city. New people came to rule the country – and new people came to live in it. Though they could hardly be called ‘people’.

They wore long coats and absolutely every one of them had black glasses on. They looked all the same. They never smiled. They rarely looked up. They had strange robotic voices. Those were people modified by the rulers, the animals, the machines. The slaves of the Empire which was being formed.

But the Basta Mafia people could only thank for the Mafia’s strange carelessness. As long as the survivors wore black clothes and dark glasses and didn’t open their mouths to speak, they were free to live. And that gave the little tribe’s agents a huge benefit.

The black people had their glasses growing from behind their ears – this was one thing that marked them. And the Moldovans sure didn’t. That was the plan. When in the crowd the survivors’ agent noticed a person with their glasses unattached to their head, they would tap that person’s shoulder and lead them into some quiet place. There, they would show each other their ears to prove again that the glasses were unattached, and then the agent asked three traditional questions:

\- What’s this country?

And even this question, the first question, could reveal the one who wouldn’t sell their country. Because the Mafia and their people wouldn’t ever say ‘Moldovanshire’. They would say ‘The Eighth Country of the No Name Empire’. And they would say it proudly, looking up, which they rarely did. But the agents seldom met the Mafia’s people. Usually the folks they were checking looked up and said ‘Moldovanshire’ unsurely, or at least hesitate before saying ‘The Eight Country’ and so forth. And then it was the time for the second question.

\- What’s the capital of this country?

City C, of course, not the Eighth Capital, as the invaders would say. And finally, the main question:

\- Who rules this country?

On this question, reaction of every true Moldovan was the same. They would raise their head and look the agent straight in the eyes, saying proudly:

\- The Mafia for now, but the Moldovans forever.

Nobody knew how they all said basically the same. Some had the secret organizations in the city, maybe they all learned there. But that was the signal for the agent to show their eyes. And with a slight smile they would say: ‘Let’s go’. And there would be another member in the Basta Mafia.

And if they ran into a survivor who took the Mafia’s side, they would finish their little checkout with a sharp: ‘Serving the No Name Empire!’ The checked one would answer: ‘In the name of the System!’ and go away without thinking. They never did think. They didn’t have to.

The tribe was growing. The old fortress was growing. And the little company of Romashka’s was growing, too. Nobody knew then, that this little company of best friends, consisting only of Romka, Mihai and Sveatik, would grow to be the warriors’ band, the one which would be protecting the little tribe of Basta Mafia!

And as it was still unknown to the three fellas in the growing tribe protected by the walls of the old fortress, let’s wander back through the chapters of history and to the day when…


	3. Fara Frica

\- Roma! Look what I brought you! Catch!

Roman raised his hands quite lazily and caught something tightly wrapped. He ripped the film and the crispy paper off it and his eyes shone.

\- Hey! I needed that!

Sveatoslav came up to him and sat down onto the ground next to him.

\- I knew you’d be hungry. Your favourite, by the way, am I right?

Roman nodded, glancing at Sveatik adoringly.

\- Fank you, - he managed, chewing.

\- Mihai! – Sveatik called, smirking at Roma’s remark. – Mihai, come here!

Mihai, who was resting his back against a huge oak farther away, rose lightly and went in no hurry towards his friends.

***

That day it was Romashka’s duty – in case that somebody came knocking at the gate – to let them in, or in case of an attack – to let everybody know. So he was sitting there at the gate from the early-early morning, and Mihai and Sveatik, surely, didn’t want to leave their friend alone. When formally it was Romashka’s turn, everybody in the Basta Mafia knew that there would be three people sitting beside the gate.

They were sitting there all together first, Mihai and Slava entertaining Roma as they could, chatting and laughing, but then Sveatik went away somewhere, saying that he’d ‘return’ (returning, as we could observe, with lunch), and Mihai wandered to the old oak to ‘maybe have some sleep’, though for real his head was full of thoughts and plans, and when he seemed to be asleep, the little powerful machine in his skull (called too humanly ‘brain’) was working unimaginably fast, analyzing and developing – thinking-thinking-thinking. Romashka didn’t argue and just let them both go, himself sitting sleepily on the same place.

***

Mihai came up to them and sat down next to Sveatik. The ginger handed him the second pack and rested his back against the locked gate.

\- And you? – Roman raised his head to examine Sveatik quickly.

\- I ate there, - Sveatoslav waved his hand to the direction of the little village that had formed in the fortress. – Stole some wrapping paper as well… - he smirked.

\- Be careful, - Mihai remarked, taking a bite.

\- Yeah, I don’t think that Maria’s gonna give you a pat on the back for that! – Romashka laughed, covering the empty bowl and sticking his clean-licked spoon into it.

\- Oh come on! – Sveatik’s smile grew wider. – If she even knows… and anyway it’s for you, she should be grateful that you two don’t stay hungry.

Mihai hemmed, but smiled, turning away. Maria was one of the kindest women not only in the entire Basta Mafia, but probably in the entire Moldovanshire – if not in the entire world. She knew that when Roma was on duty he would be together with Mihai and Sveatik, so she would cook them all three food on those days and wait for them for lunch, for each one to come. She would never let any one of them steal the food, because of her strong belief that ‘if you work – work, but while you eat, please just eat’.

They sat in silence for quite a while. Mihai finished his meal and put Roma’s bowl into his own. Everything was sleepy, and the three friends were, too. Roman even started dozing off, when suddenly the silence was broken by a loud knock at the gate.

Roman shook his head, jumping to his feet. The knock repeated, loud and demanding. Roman turned sharply and looked through the tiny grated window, seeing nothing – as usual – and asked loudly:

\- What’s this country?

\- Moldovanshire! – was a brave answer from behind the gate, but then Roma heard quiet pained hiss. He glanced at Mihai and Sveatik, who’d stood up to hear everything and met their shrugs. Go on, Mihai nodded.

\- And what’s the capital? –Romashka asked, turning to the tiny window, but a little unsurely this time.

\- City C, - the voice answered as bravely.

\- And who rules it? – Roma asked quickly.

\- Mafia for now, but Moldovans forever! – was the especially proud reply.

Roma glanced at the lock, but Mihai was already turning the handle. Romashka hurried to help him with the heavy door, Sveatik following suit, and all together they managed to open. With long, loud creak the door gave way.

First they saw only beaten paving stones. But then, as the door slowly opened, they noticed the figure leaning on the unmoving leaf. The fellow raised his head quickly as he noticed the guys, and straightened, though his legs were quite visibly trembling. He was holding a trumpet case in his left hand, and with his free right he was covering the left arm. The fingers on the free hand were red with blood, and his arms and jeans knees were dirty with black mud and green grass, but his smile was shining and not a single wrinkle on his kind open face would give out any pain or weariness.

\- Er… hello, - he greeted friendly. – Can I come in?

\- Erm… - Roma started, unsure, but Sveatik interrupted him:

\- Yeah, sure. Come in, come in.

The fellow took a step forward, but stumbled – ‘Woah!’ – and almost fell. Holding on to the gate, he let go of his arm, showing the big terrible looking wound. Mihai and Roma rushed to help him, but the fellow was standing upright already. Catching the three guys’ stares on his arm, he quickly covered it with his free hand.

\- Pardon, - he said with a confused smile.

\- He-ey, - Romashka drawled, stretching his arm out to reach the fellow’s hand hiding the injury, but he moved away a little.

\- Come on, - he said, still smiling. – It’s okay.

\- I wouldn’t be so sure, - Roma said concernedly, looking at the guy’s face. – Come on, we’ll help you in.

\- Oh don’t bother, - the fellow began, but Mihai and Roma were already wrapping his arms around each his own neck to support him. Sveatik was holding the trumpet case – surely not empty as it was quite heavy. The fellow didn’t try to fight and just smiled slightly and followed Mihai and Roma and let them seat him on the ground and then just watched them close and lock the gate silently.

\- I think we need to call somebody, - Sveatik finally said thoughtfully, handing the key to Roman. – I’ll now go there. He can’t just sit here bleeding and I don’t think that we’ll be able to carry him so easily.

Roman swallowed the chuckle. The fellow was shorter than them all, rather thin, but muscular – he was quite heavy, to be honest.

\- Yeah, you go bring somebody here. Who can help?

\- Hey!

The three friends turned to the fellow. He was struggling to stand up – and he couldn’t. Under the guys’ stares, seeing Mihai move a little towards him, ready to help, he gave up and just looked up at them.

\- Please, - he asked, bending his head to the side a little, - don’t call anybody. Just please, don’t worry, it’s okay, really. I promise. If you please, just bring something here, I don’t know, and I’ll help myself. Nothing to worry about, fellas.

And, seeing that they weren’t convinced, he raised his eyebrows a little – he reminded of a little sad animal – and tried to reassure:

\- I’ve seen worse stuff, it’s just a scratch. When he was shooting, he missed, and this – it’s the most ridiculous thing, I fell…

\- Wait-wait, - Mihai stopped him with a gesture. – What do you mean ‘shooting’?

But Sveatik pushed his hand away.

\- Come on, enough talk! – he sniffed. – I’ll be right back, you just don’t gabble too much here. He needs help first of all, everything else will wait, am I right?

And, not waiting for an answer – it was obvious – he hurried to grab the empty bowls – didn’t forget! – and quickly ran away.

The fellow followed him with his stare and smiled.

\- Good company you have here, - he said softly.

\- He will have to rob Maria again, - Mihai sniffed, sitting down beside the fellow.

\- Not necessarily, - Roma smirked, folding his arms on his chest, sitting on a huge rock beside the gate. – He can run to his own hut.

\- But it’s farther, - Mihai remarked. – Plus he took the bowls, he’ll need to put them somewhere. Hiding them from Maria for a long time is a huge risk!

Roma giggled.

\- That’s right! Yeah, he’ll probably rob Maria again. Poor lady!

\- Who’s Maria?

Mihai and Roma simultaneously turned to the fellow, suddenly ashamed that they had almost forgotten about him. He was sitting there on the ground, examining the guys with genuine interest. Feeling that the silence was a little bit too long, he decided to introduce himself:

\- By the way, I’m Valera!

He was ready to hold his hand out for handshakes, but glanced at his blood-covered fingers and stopped in the middle of the move, deciding not to. Roma smiled at him reassuringly.

\- I’m Roma.

\- Mihai, - Mihai dropped, staring up at the sky. – And Maria… you will find out as soon as you’re able to go with us. You’d better hurry up with being able!

He smirked barely noticeably, but Roma caught that and slid lightly to the ground to sit beside Valera. The fellow giggled.

\- Why? I don’t mind you carrying me around at all!

\- That’s so kind of you, - Roma sniffed. He was about to say something else, but a shout interrupted him.

\- Hey fella-as!

Sveatik was running towards them with a huge bottle of water in his one hand and a bag in the other. He waved the bag at them and Roma waved back. Sveatik quickly reached them and put everything down carefully, before putting his hands onto his knees, panting heavily.

\- How are things with Maria? – Mihai didn’t miss a chance. He sounded calm, but Roma had already learned to notice those tiny notes in his voice.

\- Perfect! – Sveatoslav raised his head, smirking. – Excellent! Couldn’t be better! Thank goodness that fast running is not amongst her strong sides.

\- So she caught you? – Roma pushed him in the shoulder, glancing at his face. Sveatik turned away cunningly, but couldn’t hide a huge smirk. – He-ey, she did!

Roma laughed. Mihai poked him in the back with his fist friendly.

\- Almost, almost! – Sveatik had freed himself from Romashka in mocking annoyance and was already busy with the bag. – But still didn’t.

The first thing he fished out of it was something tightly wrapped in crispy paper. Mihai grinned at the sight.

\- I don’t know whether I’m glad you brought the food or not.

Valera smirked.

\- Why so? – Sveatik asked busily, not raising his head from the bag, taking out a bandage – where did he even find it so quickly? – and a bottle of vodka.

This time everybody laughed, even Valera, who was visibly confused. Even Mihai’s smile shone, but he quickly bit it back. He didn’t feel quite easy around strangers.

\- Ooh, Slava! – Roma tapped his back. – Let’s party? A new member of Basta Mafia is worth it!

Sveatik sniffed, chuckling, and shrugged Roma’s hand away.

\- You jerks, - he managed. – I grabbed the first thing I saw that we could use to disinfect that… ‘scratch’, - he couldn’t help but make ‘quotes’ with his fingers. Valera bent his head to the side a little with a wide smile.

Roma sniffed and grabbed the bottle with water.

\- It’s your own fault, you didn’t have to get caught, - he threw over his shoulder before quickly avoiding Sveatik’s push with a loud ‘ha!’ and turning to Valera. – Give me your hands.

He started pouring the water slowly on the fellow’s hands as the latter was quickly washing the blood off, raising his head every second to look at the three friends’ faces. Sveatik meanwhile was busy washing the so-called ‘scratch’ which turned out to be quite a big and deep wound, but Valera didn’t seem to feel it – or just didn’t show.

In a few minutes he was bandaged and was sitting eating eagerly, his knees seemingly not trembling any more. His dirty jeans were the only thing that reminded of his previous state, but nobody seemed to pay attention. The guys settled around him, watching him curiously and waiting for him to finish his meal and tell them about everything that had happened to him.

***

Valera licked his lips and wiped his mouth with his hand quickly.

\- That was good, - he smiled widely. – Do they give a second helping here?

\- The story first! – Sveatik was quick to answer – and laughed.

\- Yeah! – Mihai nodded. A little line of concern appeared between his eyebrows whenever he looked at the newcomer, but Roman decided not to ask why exactly.

\- Well, what, - Valera looked down for a second, gathering his thoughts. – I was in Gîndul Mâţei street gang…

\- Gîndul Mâţei! – Mihai slapped his own leg. – And I was thinking where I saw you!

\- What Gîndul Mâţei?

All the stares were immediately on Roma. He shrugged embarrassedly:

\- I honestly don’t know of that street gang.

Sveatik was about to say something, but Mihai was faster.

\- It’s one of a few City C street gangs still not on the Mafia’s side, - he explained simply. – I’m actually surprised, they’re like our base in the city. It would be a huge minus for you in the city – not knowing reliable fellas…

Sveatik, suddenly reddening, rubbed the bridge of his nose.

\- I think it’s actually our fault, - he mumbled. – If you remember, it was always us who went to the city. I don’t know why he wasn’t with us then, to be honest.

Mihai glanced at him, then back at Valera, who didn’t even try to interrupt, and the line of concern appeared between his eyebrows again.

\- They needed him here, - he muttered. - Don’t remember why exactly… and I guess we were both so excited about other stuff that we forgot to tell him about Gîndul Mâţei, - he turned to Valera again. – Listen, I have to know. Something happened, right? Something bad. Something terrible.

He leaned forward towards Valera, examining his face tensely, trying to catch the littlest wrinkle which was to reveal the answer. Valera looked at him strangely and leaned away a little.

\- To be honest, I… I don’t know, - he confessed, looking at the guys embarrassedly. – When I last saw them, they were all okay, but today I didn’t meet them. Well, actually I was gonna, - he straightened as his talk became more anxious and he started supporting himself with gestures, - but I never did, and that’s basically why I’m here. Let me tell you from the start, aha? But just… anybody got a cigarette?

He smiled a little apologetically. Mihai reached into his pocket quickly.

\- There you are.

He lit the fellow’s cigarette and Valerica, exhaling a cloud of smoke, tried:

\- Not always… just when worried…

\- It’s okay, - Mihai hurried to reassure.

\- I’m just trying to stop, - Valera shrugged and smiled. – Okay, I promised you a story.

All three nodded quickly and Valera, seeming a little bit more relaxed now, took a deep breath.

\- Well, today our meeting was to be early in the morning. We had some important changes to make… well, - he looked down and shrugged slightly, - now they’re not that important any more… so, well, - he shook his head, shaking away sudden sadness and took another puff. – That’s not the point. When I came there, the door was locked from outside – well, you know those heavy padlocks, we wouldn’t get anywhere without’em. Old is reliable, you know, - he smiled. – So I got suspicious. I have a spare key – well, we all do, - did, at least. So I got in and found nobody in the common room or anywhere around. And, so, I started to worry – well, you know, when one doesn’t come – it happens, and even that in our conditions is bad, but when only one comes, - now that’s not okay at all.

He gave a short bitter laugh, then sighed and went on:

\- I walked round the building and into the backyard, when he blocked my way.

This time the pause he made was quite long as he took one last puff, and Sveatik decided to ask:

\- He – who?

Valera shrugged.

\- He. I don’t know, they all look the same. With dark glasses and all… only this one had purple shoes. He just came out of the shadows and stopped in front of me. And when I wanted to walk past him, he stopped me with his hand… like this, - he stretched his arm out just a little. – He actually put his hand right here, on my chest, and… - Valera shuddered. – They’re cold, those fellas. And… see, it felt a little like electricity, just, you know, pricks, like tiny needles, ran through me, and…

He licked his lips and paused uneasily, putting out his cigarette on a huge rock. Roma, Mihai and Sveatik exchanged glances. The Mafia’s people had never touched anybody within their recollection.

\- You know, I stopped and he took his hand away, and just said… he said, like he was recalling something: ‘Valeriy… that’s right. Valeriy.’ And you know? It was so strange – his voice was so human, but all that moved on his face was his lips – and even those only slightly. I mean, you know, when you talk, you, like, move your jaws a little, your nose is involved, and all that, your tongue is visible… and this was… this was freakin’ scary, I’d say. As if something was sitting inside him and talking, and he was… just a doll.

Valera licked his lips nervously. His gestures were getting wider.

\- I didn’t say anything, I just stared at him. I couldn’t tell whether he was looking at me or somewhere behind me, or if he even knew I was in front of him. I was about to go past, well, try at least, and he suddenly just went: ‘Don’t think you’ll go past me, Valeriu. I know who you’re looking for and I say – don’t bother.’ I just looked at him like this… ‘Gîndul Mâţei, – he said. – ‘That’s how you called your gang. Good, Valeriu. Let’s remember all the ‘thinkers’. You know their names, right?’ And he just started listing all the guys – you know, all the gang’s fellas. ‘Yesterday, afternoon, terrible accident. The attack of dogs in the backstreets. Imagine this terrible death, Valeriu – being eaten by dogs… a local man found him, but too late. Result – deceased.’ ‘Today, early morning, a maniac. Broke the window and got into the apartment. One shot, one bullet, Valeriu. He died immediately. Thus, repeating myself, deceased’… he listed them all, and each one he said was dead – he just summed each one up: ‘deceased’, I mean, you know. And then suddenly a gun appeared in his hand – I didn’t even notice how he pulled it out – and he said – coldly, so, you know, without any emotion: ‘The madman never misses, Valeriu. I hope your prayers are said. One bullet for you – one for me. For the sake of the No Name Empire!’ And I don’t know how – instinctively, probably – I just, like, grasped at the trumpet case and hid behind it – like a shield, there, you know?

Now his every word was accompanied with a lot of gestures, his eyes were sparkling strangely. Roma put his hand on Valera’s shoulder and tapped it slightly. Valera shook his head and breathed in and out. Then he looked up and smiled again.

\- I actually think the bullet hit the trumpet. It saved my life, thanks to trumpetta for that. And then I just… - he shrugged and smiled widely and confusedly, - ran away! Well, what could I do? If you know something better I could do without anything like a weapon or something, you know, then you just tell me, and I’ll be ashamed. I fell just around the corner of that building, there was some stuff piled there – well, some scrap metal, - and that’s where I got… well, got what you all got so scared over. That ‘scratch’! – he copied Sveatik’s move.

\- By the way, the trumpet, - Mihai reached behind his back and took the trumpet case. He examined it quickly, found the little hole and that same line of concern appeared between his eyebrows for a second, but it was gone in a twinkling of an eye. He nodded and handed the case to its owner.

Valera smiled and pressed it to his chest, looking at Mihai gratefully. Then he started fidgeting with the fasteners.

\- Just a moment, - he said busily, not looking up. – I have to see if everything’s okay with it. You know, this trumpet feels like an old friend now. I know, sounds terrible. But it’s almost like the fellas from the gang – was there always. You were probably wondering why an anti-Mafia agent would carry an instrument around – but, you know, we’re not just agents. We’re human first of all. At least were – I don’t know what to believe now. But we were a band in our spare time. Or, like, rather we were first a band, and only then a gang. We all have high musical education, so we gathered together to play our music, nobody expected a war, actually. I’m not a fighter, fellas, I’m a trumpeter… er… what?

He looked at the three guys confusedly. They were staring at the trumpet he was holding in his hands, their eyes wide.

\- Fellas… - Sveatik managed, standing up a little. – Fellas, is this…

\- The Almighty Trumpet, yes… – Roma finished quietly for him.

Valera glanced at the trumpet, then back at the guys, still not understanding.

\- And… you play that, right? – Mihai asked, pointing his unsure hand at the shining instrument.

Valera just shrugged, brought the trumpet to his lips and played a simple but nice riff.

\- If you call this playing, as I do, - he said with a wide smile, putting the trumpet away, - then yeah, I play it.

Mihai smiled, stood up to his feet and came up to him. Valera quickly examined him from his feet to the top of his head and back, and stood up himself quickly, looking quite confused.

\- Valerica, - Mihai said softly, - tell me, how did it happen that you here on Earth can play this trumpet?

\- Er… is it really so special? – Valera asked innocently, shrugging in such genuine and adorable perplex, that they all couldn’t help but smile.

\- It’s the Almighty Trumpet, - Sveatik said, coming up to them quickly. – From what I’ve read, it chooses the players itself, but it never chooses the earthlings. What did you have to do, buddy? Who did you kill? Now tell me honestly! – he gave a short laugh and poked Valera in the shoulder with his fist.

Valera smiled and looked down, blushing a little bit.

\- My father is a Martian, - he confessed before suddenly bursting out laughing. – Oh God! Oh God, you… if you only saw your faces!

And his laugh was so infectious that the other fellas lost it as well, not even knowing why. Roma put his arm around Valera’s shoulders.

\- So, I see, you don’t need us carrying you any more? – he asked jokingly.

\- Why, I thought you were gonna suggest carrying me around! – Valera exclaimed, putting his arm around Roma in return and making a surprised face. – Oh you, you have no mercy on the poor Martian that barely escaped the Mafia!

With jokes and pushes and laughs, carrying the bag, the bowl and the trumpet case with them, they headed in ho hurry towards the castle, where the gatherings of the entire Basta Mafia were held, when necessary. Now that was really the case.

***

\- Is everybody here?

Mihai’s voice, quite quiet, actually, rolled across the big hall and faded somewhere under the ceiling. The wave of quiet rumour followed as people looked at each other shrugging and nodding.

\- Roma still has to come, - Sveatik informed quietly from under the improvised stage.

\- Hey fellas… are you sure we need that?

\- Don’t worry. All you need is to introduce yourself, and why not? – Mihai said softly. – You’ll have to live with all these people anyway. They’re all nice, take it easy.

He tapped Valera’s back reassuringly, but the young Martian was examining the audience uneasily. Mihai noticed that he was rubbing the bandage on his left arm, so he caught his right wrist calmly and put it down. Valera glanced at his serious face and looked away, thrusting his hands into his pockets quickly.

Roma rushed into the hall, panting heavily.

\- Here! – he raised his hand and nodded at Mihai.

Mihai nodded back calmly and waved his hand slightly for Roma to come closer. He waited until his both friends were standing under the stage and only then he turned towards the people.

\- Good people, - he said softly, - I don’t want to hold any long speeches, you see, we have a newcomer today, and all I should probably say is that he can play the Almighty Trumpet. And play it, as I had the chance to hear, well.

A slight rumour ran as a wave across the sea of people as they looked at each other raising their eyebrows. Valerica smiled quite confusedly. Mihai pushed him slightly: ‘Come on, it’s your turn!’ Valerica straightened and looked at his audience.

\- Er… hello folks, - he greeted friendly, - nice to meet you all, and wanna say from the beginning, please don’t try to worship me, okay? – he gave a short laugh. – Not that I actually mind, I just don’t think I’ll make a good idol. Please, no talks about Trumpetta, no anything! Yeah, my father was from Mars, but it doesn’t really matter. I’m just Valera, Valera from Gîndul Mâţei!

\- Valerica Fara Frica, - Mihai said with a slight smile.

Valerica glanced over his shoulder at him and raised his eyebrows. As they jumped off the stage, he caught Mihai’s arm.

\- Hey!

Mihai turned to him.

\- How d’you know?

\- Wha’?

\- The nickname.

\- I didn’t know it. Just came to me. Why?

\- I gave that myself as a kid, and that’s what my friends always call me, - Valera explained. – God knows why they would call me that without even knowing me all that much, but it always happens so. Well, if they say, they probably know what they say, - he smiled.

Roma looked at Sveatik and noticed him smirking to himself. His self-confident lower lip gave out his scepticism, but Roma felt somehow proud and happy. He trusted Mihai and he knew oh so well that he wouldn’t call a man who didn’t deserve it ‘Fearless Valerica’. Especially in Moldovan. Especially in front of Basta Mafia. And even though he could hardly believe that the already laughing, open-hearted bright-eyed creature in the crowd of the stage was that very Valerica Fara Frica, but he trusted Mihai. He threw away all the doubts and just ran towards him, followed by Sveatik, who was still smirking to himself that special way.

***

Mihai watched it all with a smile, but he didn’t rush into the laughing crowd gathering around the newcomer. He was like a magnet – he attracted people and they would all gather around him to ask him, to hear him talk, - not each and every newcomer was greeted with such warmth. And he radiated something like sunshine – Mihai could feel it almost physically. He smiled to himself, talking a step back to let everybody get to Valera. He didn’t know how he knew, but all he knew for now was that they would never regret letting in the smiling wounded Martian, who didn’t mind them carrying him around.


	4. So Lucky

Sveatik woke up that morning because of the brutal force with which Mihai was shaking him.

\- Slava! Slava! Wake up, damn you!

He wasn’t shouting – he rarely did at all, - but his ‘shouting whisper’ had something sounding in it that made Slava open his eyes wide – and shut them tight again, hissing with pain. The bright white light of the sunless morning, which was flowing through the big windows of his little house, rushed painfully into his eyes.

\- Aaaah, fuck…

After a few seconds of fierce blinking and rubbing his eyes he could finally look, squinting terribly, at all those sitting on his bed. A second’s examination of each one could tell him everything he needed to know.

Mihai, his face unreadable, his hair a mess – he woke up early and spent the morning wandering around thinking over something or working with music or some of his Basta Mafia organization plans – and then was suddenly distracted by something utterly important. Roma, staring at the opposite wall absentmindedly, sure out there somewhere, half asleep – shadows were running across his face, he was probably watching the sequel of his dream playing on that wall. And Valera, leaning – or, better to say, falling, - on Roma, expressionless, his eyes shut – poor Martian must have stayed awake till late night again, practicing and practicing, making his Trumpetta do the impossible. Sveatik yawned and sat up on his bed. If his day had begun so unexpectedly, it had to.

***

It’s been something like half a year – maybe more, maybe less, Sveatik didn’t remember – since the young Martian came to the old fortress to stay. He became friends with, like, each and every Basta Mafia member, but always hung around Romashka, Slava and Mihai. God knows what made him so attached to the fellas – maybe it was just because they were the first ones he met in the Basta Mafia, or maybe he actually preferred being with them, finding something special in them – God knows, and when did earthlings actually understand Martians? To be honest, when did the earthlings understand even other earthlings? But they enjoyed his company, and, as they were freely exploring his open soul through little everyday problems and simple conversations, they started loving him as if he was actually the part of their bunch from the start.

He was of the kind that would give the shirt off his back if his friend was in need. In case of a problem – any problem – he would always use his little Martian secrets – or not Martian, God knows. For Sveatik’s blues, for Romashka’s sore throat, for Mihai’s bad days when he was cursing like a trooper – he had a cure for everything. His wound healed, not leaving even the littlest scar, but he got a curious habit: when he felt something bad was happening around, he would start scratching his arm, not even noticing it.

He was hardworking, scrupulous, and too often he would sit around the guys, staring absentmindedly at one spot – with his face, so thoughtful and tired he looked sad. But at the same time he only needed a little smile to change everything. Roma sometimes thought that even the evillest warrior would drop his arms seeing that smile – somehow Valera always managed to stop any quarrels in the Basta Mafia. Sometimes he was annoying – sometimes too pedantic and workaholic, sometimes too silly, but it all was forgiven when he smiled. He became the part and parcel of the little company, and Romashka sometimes wondered how they’d lived without him.

And in addition to all that, he somehow opened the guys’ musical souls. Noticing Roma and Mihai humming something all the time, he got eyes lit up and ran immediately to try and make them come and play with him. Roma agreed easily, and in the evening they were playing together on the porch of Roma’s house, Romka strumming his guitar. The Almighty Trumpet worked especially well in Valerica’s skilful hands, but nobody would even suspect that it was anyhow special, so simple was the player. Mihai was sitting at his own door, on the steps, watching them play – all the guys’ huts were standing in a row almost touching walls – and thinking about something. Used to keeping everything to himself, he told Valerica he had to think over his idea, but, watching them, he would more and more often look over his shoulder at the black rectangle of the opened door, until finally, unable to hold it any more, he jumped to his feet and disappeared in the house – only to rush out of it a few seconds after, holding his guitar in his triumphantly raised hand and with some papers flying out of the thick pile in his other hand and leaving the slowly floating down trail in the air behind him.

The next evening they were sitting on Mihai’s porch all four, and a few days after they were rehearsing at Sveatik’s. The ginger dug out his electric guitar, or, how Roma called it immediately, ‘electrocobza’. They used an old amp Mihai had found God knows where and tried their sound – humbly first, carefully touching the notes Mihai had written – quietly, but very soon their music grew and raged into noisy rock. They immediately started annoying the neighbours and, being it Mihai alone, the music would probably be over immediately. But they were a team, and they would find a way out each time: playing songs they knew the folks liked, using Roma or Valera as Mister Charm, or just talking them into listening closely and finally liking the stuff they played.

That was, until Maria’s husband Nicu, sighing and scratching his beard, - he was a big man and he didn’t like walking much, - walked that day’s birthday boy Mihai to quite a big house not far from the castle and opened the door in front of him. In a few minutes, Mihai was running helter-skelter towards the row of four small homes, laughing loudly, like a child, and filling the quiet backstreet with his barbaric cries. He grabbed Roma, who came out the first to see what was happening, he hugged the hell out of all his three friends, shouting barely understandable things into the air, and when he finally released them, he had three jaws to pick up from the ground.

They got their own little studio.

Only music could ever make Mihai shout or laugh like that or behave anyhow silly. Only music – and his closest friends. He was mostly quiet and serious, he always thought before he spoke, no, not like that – he was always thinking. All unless he was in front of his friends. You couldn’t call him just ‘a thinker rather than a talker’. He was a musician first of all. And a passionate man he was, inside, but that well-hidden emotion was strong.

And their life rolled on, interlaced with music. They kept their little bloodless battle. They ventured out to play for the protesters, they joined the heroes, they gathered crowds in abandoned houses, they played, live and loved their music – and grew as a team, becoming one. And mostly for that they had to thank Valerica…

***

They hurried down the narrow street and to the wider one, then turned towards the castle, but didn’t enter. Mihai walked the three guys past the big crowd of Basta-Mafians, always risking bringing only two to the destination, because poor sleepy slogger Valerica was dragging behind them and Sveatik or Roma had to watch him all the time and not let him fall asleep while walking. Mihai himself wouldn’t stop.

They pushed their way through the crowd and stopped at the door of Maria’s house. Mihai knocked and waited.

\- I’m not letting anybody in! – Nicu’s muffled voice sounded from behind the door.

\- Maria, Nicu, it’s Mihai, - Mihai said, raising his voice a little for them to hear him well. – Mihai and the band.

A second or two passed to the babbling rumour of the crowd, then the lock clicked and Nicu opened the door a little. He examined the four faces, sighed and stepped out of the house, pushing the crowd away.

\- Leave the man alone! – they could hear his voice shouting to all the people outside, as they slipped into the house.

Maria didn’t come out to meet them. Nicu closed the door behind Valera and caught his shoulders – he did try to fall down. He examined the guy’s face – Lera probably barely saw anything in front of him, - and clapped him on the cheeks slightly; then shook him – in Nicu’s large hands Valera, not being very tall, seemed tiny – and put him to his feet again.

\- Working till late at night won’t do you any good, - he said didactically.

Valera only nodded, rubbing his eyes. Nicu looked up at the other three, waiting unsurely, and tapped Valerica’s shoulder.

\- There, there. He’ll wake up as soon as he finds out, don’t worry. Let’s go.

And he led them to the living room – to the Casa Mare.

Quite a big man – but still not as big as Nicu – was sitting, his back to them, at Maria’s table, eating. His black fedora was lying beside him on that long bench covered with a bright carpet. The hostess was watching the man sympathetically, sometimes glancing softly at the lady with a little boy on her knees. The lady herself was purring something to the boy, every next second looking up at the big man with worry in her eyes. The man didn’t hear the guys enter, or just didn’t pay attention. He stood up in a minute, stretched himself and, stepping over the bench, standing up from the table, said with a smile sounding in his voice:

\- Thank you! That was excellent, absolutely excellent.

He had quite a high voice for such a big man. Nicu coughed and only then the man seemed to notice the fellas. He turned to them and they all saw his round face with deep sad eyes.

\- I hope you aren’t disappointed, Victor, - Nicu said in apologizing tone. – You can’t blame people for their wish to see the sensation. Our life here is calm, you know, the Mafia don’t know about us… and people need something happening…

\- It is okay, - the big man assured, examining the four guys. – It’s not unusual.

\- Here’s our band, - Nicu said that with a trace of pride. He liked the guys and their music and he would always ask them to play for him. – Mihai, - he put his hand on Mihai’s shoulder, - such a smart guy, if it hadn’t been for him we wouldn’t have Basta Mafia here! This is Roma, you’ll never be bored with him. He says such things, I don’t know how he comes up with them. He’s a poet…

Roma smiled with a corner of his lips and looked away.

\- Slava, our ball of energy… he’ll infect you immediately, you’ll see! And Valera, he’s the kindest fellow, you don’t know how he helps me… excuse him sleeping, he’s been working half of the night. He plays the Almighty Trumpet, by the way!

Valera was leaning on the doorframe, rubbing his eyes trying to see the newcomer clearly. Victor smiled somehow sadly.

\- Oh, so I’m not the only one special here, - he said quietly. – I’m glad. And not the only one who doesn’t look like it…

Valera shrugged a little. He didn’t even think of being offended, though Mihai had to admit inside that he himself would be. Victor stretched his arm out.

\- Nice to meet you, - he said quite exhaustedly. – I’m Vitea. But everybody calls me the So Lucky.

\- So Lucky? – Roma asked, shaking his hand. – Friends call me Romashka, by the way.

\- I can explain, - Valera said, stepping forward and shaking Victor’s hand. – I’m Valeriy, you already know, - he introduced himself quickly. – Look, he was born on the day when Mars was in the lucky spot in the sky. Don’t ask me how I know, every Martian knows it damn well. This happens really rarely. I didn’t have a chance to celebrate any of those days, but I was told that it’s when nobody can be in grief. We, like, have a blessed one here, fellas.

\- That’s right, - Victor nodded. – I’m lucky all the way through my life. Bad things can not happen to me – I mean, to me personally…

\- Sveatoslav, - Sveatik shook Victor’s hand. – Sveatoslav Ryjik.

He adored being called that name. Victor nodded, shook hands with Mihai and examined all the four fellas without much interest.

\- And now, if you please, get outta here.

He said that without any anger, his voice was just tired, endlessly tired. The guys exchanged glances. Victor noticed that and just sat down on the bench before saying quietly:

\- You heard me, fellas. Please. Just disappear. I don’t want to see anybody. Disappear.

And he closed his eyes. Mihai quickly tapped each one’s shoulder and they all four left Maria’s house in silence. Nicu closed the door behind them and they were left outside. The crowd was much quieter, a lot of people were going away. In silence Romashka, Sveatik, Mihai and Valerica went towards their little studio.

***

It was late and black outside. Mihai locked the door of the studio, turned and looked around. Old street lights marked the borders of the street in front of him with two rows of bright yellow circles. Behind them the darkness was lapping. Mihai inhaled. The air of the night was fresh, it was quiet. The entire Basta Mafia was asleep.

Mihai smiled to himself and reached behind his head to let his hair down.

It was dark and curly. It fell down and covered his face. He shook his head, then threw it back and smiled widely at the blackness overhead. He loved the night. He loved the silence. Silence was music.

He headed slowly down the street. He wasn’t sleepy. He was feeling alive, more alive than ever. He reached the fork and turned to the little dark and quiet backstreet. That was a short way home, but he not that mattered to him. He stopped in between two houses and looked up.

The stars were shining overhead. Millions of stars. He didn’t know all their names, but he was always searching for familiar ones. That bright one he knew was Venus. Over there Cassiopeia was visible – the constellation of W, as he always called it. And that one…

He looked at the star and his smile faded. That was Valerica’s star. That was Mars. And through a chain of associations he thought of the So Lucky guy. He remembered his eyes and wondered uneasily what was in them so dark. They seemed older than the man himself, like somebody else’s eyes on that face. Lucky people didn’t stare like that. Mihai shook his head and thick spirals of auburn hair with metal blue tint fell into his face. He threw it away with one quick gesture. He had to find out. He thrust his hands into his pockets and headed down the street – first fast, but then his pace slowed down and he looked up at the sky again.

His life had become so closely connected to the stars. He never looked up with that thought before. But now he seemingly woke up. First there was Valerica and his stories, then, inspired by that, he and Romashka started writing songs about the outer space and UFOs. And now that man came, whose life was chosen for him and predicted by only one star, whose life was decided without him knowing that, on the day he was born – and till the day he would die.

With the next step he expected to feel the firm ground under his heavy ginger boot, but felt thin air instead, gasped – and fell, striking his knees against the sharp solid edges of the pothole and scratching his palms against tiny stones. He hissed and quickly sat up, but his legs hurt badly, it was hard to get up. He curled up on the ground and bit his lip. Tried to rise – and fell again. He hit that spot on the left knee, it hurt and he couldn’t stand on that leg.

\- Damn, - he hissed. – Fuuuuck…

\- Hey?

The voice sounded somehow familiar. Mihai looked up – and saw the round face lit up with a little smile. The So Lucky guy was standing next to him, holding out a helping hand. Mihai grasped at it and stood up. His left leg still hurt badly, but he limped where Victor led him, supporting him carefully, and sat down onto the steps, moving his shoulders quickly. Vitea sat down beside him and sat there quietly, not paying any more attention at Mihai massaging his own leg in silent hope the pain will pass by itself soon.

It did. Mihai moved his foot and felt it. The pain was gone. He quickly rubbed his hands against his jeans and turned to Victor, expecting to meet his look – but Victor was staring at the skies silently. Mihai closed his mouth he had opened to say something unnecessary and scratched his little beard. Glanced at the stars, then back at Vitea.

\- Er… thank you, - he said a little hoarsely.

\- That’s nothing, - Vitea dropped. He was silent for quite a while, and Mihai moved his feet together to stand up, when suddenly he spoke again: - You know, I think I was a terrible bore today.

Mihai looked down, frowning a little, trying on a smirk – and taking it off, not knowing what to say. But Vitea didn’t expect an answer. When he spoke again, a smile sounded in his voice:

\- You see, it’s just that everything is so tiresome, when you’re So Lucky… so boring… and… it actually hurts sometimes, you know?

Mihai only mouthed the word ‘hurts’, but decided not to say anything out loud.

\- That’s right, - Vitea rubbed the bridge of his nose. – When all your friends – imagine, all of your friends are either recruited to the Grey Army or killed… because you weren’t around in the right moment… and… you’re left alone, and you’re so afraid to lose the last ones you love…

Mihai looked down. He suddenly felt all the pain that was in the So Lucky guy’s eyes run through his heart. He swallowed.

\- Why are you saying this to me? – he asked just to ask.

Vitea raised his eyebrows and shrugged.

\- But you’re here now. And I’m in the mood for talking things. If you don’t wanna listen, feel free to go.

Mihai looked at the So Lucky, then at the stars, stirred uneasily and didn’t rise. Victor smiled a little.

\- I have my wife, - he went on softly. – And my little son… and I have to protect them. And, you know… they are the ones I am the most afraid for.

Mihai sighed.

\- You know, - he said quietly, after a second, - you know, those fellas… those three: Roma, Slava and Valerica… they are my family. My brothers, I don’t know. Instead of the one I have, like, by the blood. Have somewhere far away, I don’t know exactly where. You might say that it’s not the same, but believe me… do you remember the Massacre of City C?

Vitea breathed in and out.

\- I remember, - he said, and choked on the words, swallowing the rest of the sentence. – I remember better than many, - he tried again. – When I tried to fight, relying on my star… and when I couldn’t do anything… and at one point I understood that I was helpless, I just stopped my attempts. Because I saw that everyone else was dead around me – and I couldn’t even knock anybody out… and I just turned and went away… - he sighed and closed his eyes. – You know… I don’t regret that. I didn’t betray anyone. I was just helpless. I couldn’t change that anyhow. Now I can say I’m happy. But, at the same time… I don’t know if I ever will feel truly good.

\- Do you know how it feels, - Mihai said quietly, - to walk across the debris, to step over freakin’ dead bodies in search of your old friends? And when you find people you knew and loved – when you find them dead… - he stopped, pressed his lips together and ran his fingers through his thick dark curls. Victor was silent, waiting. – When we met with Slava, over the body of our old teacher, - Mihai went on with an effort, - it’s just unimaginable how it felt. I simply couldn’t say anything, I just saw his face – and I lost it. I never cried, I think I lost all the fuckin’ tears there were in me to cry then…

He stopped. He remembered it all too well – holding his friend tight, grasping at him like a drowning man at a straw. The body of their old teacher was lying at their feet, and that was carved deep into Mihai’s memory: the battlefield covered with the dear corpses – and two breathing beings standing in the middle of it. Sveatik was all soaked with blood and sweat of his own and of the other warriors. He was hot, exhausted – and alive, and breathing, and his heart was beating so fast, fast, fast. Absolutely alive, he didn’t pay attention to any of his wounds, he didn’t show any pain. And when Mihai finally managed to release him – Sveatik pushed him away and smiled. And his smile was the same. A tear was trembling, ready to fall, in the corner of his eye, but he smiled the same way he always did. And Mihai smiled back – because Sveatik was there whole, and each and every part of his soul was there. Because if he was the same – life could probably get to normal as well. Maybe…

\- I wonder how my brother is doing now, - Mihai shook his head with a sad smile. – We’re exactly the same. And we are exact opposites. And they are closer to me, than he is. Even though he is my real brother, and they are just – what? – friends. But they are my family. I remember when we found Roma – how he just fainted and I didn’t know what to do because I was so scared that he would die, too. And leave us. Yes, I remember all those old classmates and people I knew, and people I didn’t know – but who were alive anyway, how we were gathering them all together… and what a relief it was. But I remember nobody as good and I was afraid for nobody as terribly as them.

They sat in silence for a minute or two.

\- And Valera? – Vitea asked calmly.

\- What – Valera? – Mihai threw away thick dark spirals of his hair and looked at the skies. He listened to himself and, quite in surprise, found out he didn’t regret telling Victor anything.

\- You never mentioned him.

\- He came later, - Mihai said thoughtfully. – But he reminded me of them. Reminded me so much of the Massacre. He is Valerica Fara Frica. That couldn’t be just a stupid accident. He’s a member of our family now. Our fourth brother. I don’t give a flying fuck if he’s Martian or not.

He sighed. He didn’t know why he opened his soul to that newcomer, to the So Lucky guy, whose life was written for him and before him by a single star. He didn’t know. But he had just done it and he felt so good and calm, that stone thrown off his chest…

\- Nicu told me you play, - Vitea informed casually.

\- We do, - Mihai turned to him and smiled with the corners of his lips.

\- Can I come listen?

Mihai shrugged.

\- If you want…

Vitea smiled:

\- I’d love to.

\- So you’re free to.

\- Nicu told me where…

\- Okay.

Mihai stood up and stretched himself. Vitea glanced at him, smiled and nodded to his own thoughts.

\- Feeling better now? – he asked kindly.

\- Yeah, - Mihai was standing his back to Victor, but his smile sounded in his voice, and he couldn’t fight it. – And you?

\- Thank you, - Vitea said simply. – And, just in case you were worried, I do not give up anybody’s secrets. They become mine as well. So you don’t worry.

Mihai turned to him and looked at his face with a smile.

\- Come tomorrow, - he said. – And thank you… for everything. Good night!

\- Good night to you, - Victor smiled.

Mihai turned to him and looked into his kind wise eyes and felt younger than he was, but that didn’t bother him. They shook hands and Mihai headed home down the poorly lit backstreet. Victor followed him with his stare and sighed.

***

In a little time the music in the city was slightly different. And Mihai was walking to the studio and back home somehow especially proudly. And now the company which was sitting by the gate on Romashka’s and the others’ duties was bigger. And the laughter was louder, and their talks were longer, and their sound was different.

The orchestra man, the folk lover, the blessed So Lucky man Vitea joined the group.


	5. Everybody hora mare or The dances begin

\- But, you know, when…

\- Hush!

Mihai pushed Valera in the ribs with his sharp elbow and the young Martian hissed, turning away from Roma and Sveatik, who kept on their quiet conversation, and rubbing his side.

\- O-ouch, what are you…

\- Hush!

Mihai squeezed Valera’s shoulder and his dark eyes sparkled angrily. Valerica sniffed and looked up at the stage. Mihai leaned to the side behind his friend’s back and reached Roma’s shoulder.

\- Hey there! Please shut up, he’s starting in a moment.

Roma nodded and quickly turned his head to the stage. Sveatik glanced at the fellas and looked up, too.

\- Don’t be a daddy, - Vitea smiled at Mihai from the other side.

Mihai sighed.

\- I’m trying. But sometimes they’re just… eh!

\- If you saw yourself sometimes! – Vitea remarked with a smirk. – We’d better watch. Have mercy.

Mihai smirked and looked up at the stage. In a second the awesome silence fell. Mihai heard his own fast choking heartbeat. He glanced at the fellas quickly and saw their faces all turned to the stage. Nobody would even think of talking. They heard the steps – quiet, but approaching, heavy, firm. The steps of the man who felt the ground under his feet well. They became louder, and at the same time a little bit quicker and not so rhythmical. Someone hesitated for just a second, but then stepped forward.

The tall, quite sturdy young man came up onto the stage and looked at the crowd with a kind smile. He was wearing simple jeans and a t-shirt, his big boots were clean, even though he’d come from far away. He had a body of a strapper – and a handsome bony face, clever and lively. His eyes kept that immortal sparkle in them, the one which, like Sveatik’s smirk, couldn’t be taken away from him. He took off his black cap – his long hair fell awkwardly behind his ears – and sighed.

\- So that’s how you look now, City C, - he said softly, as if to himself. Then his glance ran across the crowd and he smiled widely: – Well, hello, people. I’m back. And I’m yours!

***

That was a very special day. Early in the morning the entire band gathered in the studio – just to gather all together. They didn’t play, and they couldn’t – they were way too excited. They talked, and paced up and down the studio, tried to strum their guitars or hum the songs – and threw everything away, jumped up and started pacing again, or talking loudly, gesturing, shouting. They became little boys again, little fans waiting to see their hero. All the talks were about only one thing – the great warrior, the real superhero of Moldovanshire was coming home.

Andrei Cebotari was a well-known name not only in City C, not even only in Moldovanshire. He was praised in the entire world, and nobody cared that he wasn’t even from City C, but from some little Moldovan town God knows where. He was born and raised in a little country, which was never too successful or rich, and which was now in ruins, which was ruled by the Mafia – and in those hard times he was coming back home. From far away, from a safe and rich country, where there was no No Name Empire, he was returning.

His story as a story of the superhero began with the Massacre. When the invaders came early in the morning, absolutely unexpectedly, when they stepped into the sleeping City C, they would never suspect that a simple fellow in a gym suit would come out of the simple house to face them and with simple yet graceful moves he would disarm the entire first row. But that was it. He stood and fought alone, protecting the city before the help arrived – God knows where he’d got the power. They captured him. In fifteen minutes he escaped, stealing his escort’s equipment, and rushed to fight. Probably only because of him the invaders left City C without making sure everybody was killed. Left in a hurry, and all their future attacks were made in a hurry, they were killing furiously, but carelessly, leaving survivors and the minds that could raise movements against them.

And even in constant fear and pain, among dirt and blood and tears, Andrei’s name was heard everywhere. He didn’t want that fame. It was unnatural to him – being talked about in such a time. But he soon became a hero and his life a legend.

Andrei had spent just a little time in Basta Mafia. He didn’t even have time to build himself a house. Everybody, every single underground organization wanted to see him, to touch him, to have a piece of him. He didn’t have time to even put a few bricks to start a home. And a few months after the Massacre, when the entire Moldovanshire was under the Mafia’s rule, the organization started slowly creeping towards neighbouring Rom. And all the Romanian warriors signed the letter to Andrei asking him for help. A superhero from the wilds of Moldova being called in despair to Rom would be quite strange in different conditions: Romanian top people and army – as well as half of the country – always considered Moldovans inferior. But Andrei wasn’t rancorous. When he got that letter, he said nothing to anybody. He didn’t hesitate. He stood up, packed some things of prime necessity and went away. He didn’t leave a note. He didn’t tell anybody. He didn’t want to be a legend. But he turned into one without his own will.

He successfully defeated the invaders and his name resounded throughout the country and abroad. Somewhere in Rom, trying to hide from people’s raging love, he had met somebody and something had happened – nobody knew what exactly, but then the photos of Andrei flying standing on a big drum appeared and caused a sensation.

He would smile to people, standing firmly on earth, and then he would run away and fly high above the ground, sitting or standing on the biggest drum and surrounded with smaller ones. His entire drumset would form a kind of a bird and Andrei would fly on it. He knew special spells which were designed specially for him, he was special himself now – and he didn’t know what to do with that.

But his mission in Rom was fulfilled. And he decided to return home, because his heart longed for Moldovanshire – and, to be honest, he wanted to meet some people for whom he was just Andyuha, if there were any.

And that day he came quietly, as usual, nobody knew when exactly he had arrived. He just caught somebody’s eye in the street, drumless and thus helpless in front of the crowd. Somebody ran immediately to inform the entire Basta Mafia, but he was clever enough to gather them all in the castle. So now Andrei Cebotari, the guy whose life was already a legend, was standing in front of the crowd.

As soon as the heavily panting boy threw the door of the studio open with mad force and shouted: ‘Andrei Cebotari is back! All to the castle, quick!’ and ran out, they all jumped to their feet. That was the style of Andrei’s: he stated the day, but not the hour, in between wanting to stay simple and hide – and every man’s harmless vanity. They hurried towards the castle and were there waiting in a few minutes. Everybody tried to stay calm, reminding themselves Andrei was just a guy from the wilds of Moldovanshire, but their hearts were pumping: man, he was the hero!

***

They were all sitting in their studio – Valera leaning back in the old sofa, Sveatik and Vitea beside him, Mihai straddling a chair and Roma on the floor on the carpet.

\- If you really want to go, I think we all should go! – Sveatik slapped his own hips and shook his head. His old glasses slipped down his nose and he quickly adjusted them.

Valera shrugged, not looking up. It was him that Sveatik was addressing to.

\- Man, I don’t know. I think Mihai should go. I mean, come on, he’ll do it better than we all together could at all!

Roma reached out and tapped Valera’s knee.

\- Listen, man, but if you really wanna go, - he said encouragingly. – Let’s go together, why not?

\- And I’m gonna be your ‘obsessed friend’? – Valera sniffed, glancing at Roma. – Mhm, thanks for playing. I’ll anyway look like an idiot, and I don’t wanna look like an idiot, so I’d better stay here and look like an idiot all by myself. I’d better do it on purpose than accidentally.

He sniffed again and kept on examining his own knees.

\- But if he’s your hero, - Roma tilted his head to the side a little. – I mean, come on, we all admire him. It couldn’t be otherwise – he’s a great warrior. He basically saved our lives. And don’t you worry. Do you think Mihai will feel much different than you?

Valera glanced at Mihai, who was quickly writing something down, and sighed.

\- Honestly? I do think so.

\- You shouldn’t be so sure, - Mihai remarked calmly. – Because you don’t know what is in my head now.

\- Is anybody here able to understand how your brain works at all?

Valera’s expression reminded more and more of a lost little animal. Mihai raised his head from what he was writing and his dark eyes sparkled at the young Martian. Roma hurried to send Mihai a fierce glance (‘Calm down, don’t you know him?’), then smiled, stood up and pushed his skinny bottom between Valera and Sveatik, and squeezed Valerica’s shoulder.

\- Oh, man, take it easy. We’re all with you. Let’s go together, like Slava says.

\- I don’t wanna stand in the back and look stupid, - Valera said stubbornly. – And plus, Andrei and Mihai could be useful to each other. They’ll understand each other better. I’d better stay here, I’m telling you.

The next moment the door flew open and hit the wall loudly. Everybody’s heads turned to the direction of the entrance.

To the dead silence smiling Andrei entered the studio and closed the door behind his back quietly. He examined the five faces staring at him and sat down in between Valera and Vitea – now this was way too many for the old sofa.

\- Hey fellas, - he greeted friendly. – One good man Nicu said you were the band and this was your studio. Is that right?

He was looking at Valera, and poor young Martian didn’t know what to do. Astonished, slack-jawed, he looked around at the other four, shouting wordlessly for help, but nobody uttered a sound. So he looked back at Andrei and muttered unsurely:

\- Ye… yeah…

\- Oh good, - Andrei smiled. – You all, if you please, make not so hilarious faces, will you? Because if I lose it now, I’ll feel ashamed.

Roma was the first to collect himself. He shook his head and quickly held his hand out for a handshake.

\- Roma. Nice to meet you, mister…

\- Just Andrei, - Andrei interrupted, smiling and shaking his hand. – A lot of folks ran around calling me ‘sir’, ‘mister’… I’m not a mister, for God’s sake! I’m Andrei. Or Cebotari – it’s okay as well.

\- Well, that feels totally weird to call a great warrior like you just Cebotari when we’ve just met you, - Valera remarked, shaking his hand. – I’m Valeriy. No, I mean, really. We’ve never talked before, I’ll feel uncomfortable calling a man like you… - he paused. – Oh sorry, I’m… - he stopped and wiped his face with his both hands, before finishing: - an idiot.

Roma tapped his back reassuringly. Andrei gave a short kind laugh.

\- Don’t worry, people usually feel uncomfortable when I’m around and thus get a little awkward. I just keep on hoping that it’ll pass. They think of me as of a celebrity, a demigod and God knows what else. I don’t know what I should do to make them just shake my hand when I meet’em and call me Cebotari. ‘Hey, Cebotari, man, how are things?’ Imagination, yeah.

He waved his hand in the air and smiled somehow sadly.

\- Well, for now you basically only have to change your past, - Mihai remarked, shaking his hand.

\- You’re Mihai, I know, - Andrei nodded before Mihai could say anything else. – How can I not know the man who started this all? I mean the Basta Mafia and everything that we have here now. See, you’re my hero. A hero has a hero for himself… nice…

Mihai nodded without a trace of a smile.

\- I think we’ll make a good team being each other’s heroes, - he said seriously.

\- Sveatoslav. Ryjik, - Slava squeezed Andrei’s hand with his right and adjusted his glasses with his left. – A pleasure.

\- Same, - Andrei said simply. – Ryjik is good, by the way. And… - he looked at Vitea.

\- Victor, - Vitea said with a little smile, and his voice that was younger than his body sounded higher than usual. – The So Lucky, if you know what I mean.

Andrei raised his eyebrows a little and looked at the fellas.

\- Really? Now that’s who has to be treated like a demigod! Why haven’t they made a temple to honour you yet?

\- They basically did, - Vitea smiled wider. – They call me before they start anything important.

Andrei laughed. They looked at each other as they shook hands as if they understood each other immediately. Andrei then stood up and threw a little green backpack right onto the floor.

\- Look at this, - he announced. – That fella who made my drums fly, he also gave me this one and said that when I feel I need to give something to somebody, I will find something to give away here. Anybody heard?

Everybody shrugged, exchanging glances. Andrei waved his hand.

\- Okay, okay, forget. That guy was strange, you know. Lived in a cave, alone, in the mountains, barely ate, barely drank, but wasn’t a monk. He told me he was hiding there and I was hiding at that time, too, so, you see.

He was saying all that stuff as if he had known the guys for ages, as if he never stopped talking to them. Mihai stood up and gave the hero a long look from under his unibrow. Andrei looked at him simply, then frowned when it got too long not to be awkward.

\- What?

\- Don’t you find it strange?

\- What? – Andrei repeated in the same tone.

\- Well, you know, you just came in and started talking…

\- Mihai… - Sveatik pulled his T-shirt. Mihai glanced to him:

\- What? I’m just stating the fact, it is kinda weird!

Andrei sighed. His smile fell and he just shook his head.

\- Yeah. Yeah, it is, - he said in a strange voice. – You know, I’m sorry, fellas. That’s right, what our Martian said, it’s weird to treat a hero like a friend. A hero is a hero. Well, was nice to talk to you. I… I’ll go?

Slava stood up.

\- Bullshit! – he summed up. – You sit down and make yourself at home. Don’t listen to him, - he raised his hand preventively as Mihai opened his mouth. – He would actually love to hear your stories, too. And he always wanted to be in a team with you. Come on, you’re tired of being a loner, you’re tired of being a hero, I understand everything. Just feel free here, mhm?

Andrei shrugged and examined the faces of the guys. Vitea was smiling like a big cat. Valera raised his eyebrows and nodded. Mihai pulled a face, but Slava reached out and poked him with his fist.

\- Don’t show off!

Andrei smiled.

\- Well, if you honestly don’t mind me…

\- Nobody minds you, Andryuh, - Sveatik assured with a smirk. He saw Andrei’s face shine with delight and was pleased at the sight. He actually liked Cebotari from the first sight – the man was so down-to-earth and sincere – and found another pleasure in making him feel welcome.

Andrei sat down onto the chair and looked at the guys. Valerica jumped to his feet:

\- Want beer?

It was almost his catchphrase already, as whenever they were hanging out together he would suggest some beer – and nobody usually rejected such a proposal. And this time Andrei sure nodded.

\- Please.

Valera paced to the little Soviet fridge in the corner – Slava never told them where he had found it, but they always suspected he made at least half of it himself – and looked back.

\- Anybody else?

\- For everybody, - Sveatik dropped.

\- There’re only three bottles.

\- We can share.

\- I don’t wanna, - Vitea said absentmindedly.

\- Mkay.

Valera brought the bottles and the opener and held his hands out. Andrei took one, Mihai followed him and the last one Valera suggested to Roma, then Sveatik.

\- You open, I’ll rob you, - the ginger dropped carelessly.

Valera nodded, opened the bottle and passed the opener to the others.

\- By the way, - he glanced at Cebotari as he took a shot, - how do you know?

\- Know what?

\- That I’m Martian. I mean, part Martian, but it’s all the same.

Andrei thought for a second.

\- The voice, - he finally said confidently. – I’ve met just a few Martians, but I learned to recognize some special notes, - and, catching Valera’s confused stare, he laughed and tapped his shoulder: - Oh, don’t even try to understand, my good man, Valerica! It’s like a formula of a face of a Moldovan man – I can recognize a fellow from Moldovanshire immediately when I see him. Still haven’t figured out how.

Valera just smiled and passed his bottle to Sveatik. Andrei took a shot from his own.

\- So? Anything you want to hear from a stray hero?

Sveatik smiled widely.

\- Everything. Everything that nobody knows, Andryuh. If you’re home, you’re home. Feel free.

Andrei nodded, laughing a little.

\- Ve-ery good. It’s actually a boring story, you know. Long and bo-o-oring. - he pulled a face.

\- Try it anyway, - Sveatik reassured.

And Andrei tried. His story was long indeed, and he knew his highs and lows, he never turned his back to an enemy, yet he was running in fear from the raging crowds; looking for friends he was coming and drumming, talking and joking, yet always remained a loner, because that awe followed him everywhere, like a wall between him and the others. Even Romanians praised him, he dined with the five Generals of the Army of Rom – Tudor, Nadia, Olga, Marian and Laurentiu, and they were trying their best to win his friendship, yet he wasn’t inclined to the people of power. They lacked that true spark that simple fellas had – and he left. The ladies called him a heartthrob, even though he never tried to win anyone’s love, on the contrary, he was running away.

Mihai examined Andrei with a little line of concern between his eyebrows. Valerica listened, eyes wide. Vitea smiled absently. Sveatik threw in comments from time to time. Romashka sat there nodding thoughtfully. At some point Andrei looked around the studio and confessed:

\- I miss music. I listen to it every time I can, but I wanna make music, you know? I’m just flying that thing and sometimes I’m afraid I’m gonna forget that I can drum. Like, I feel like I’m gonna lose the feeling, the rhythm, forget all the moves and lose all the concentration.

Mihai licked his lips and called:

\- Andrei.

Andrei turned to Mihai:

\- Hm?

\- Wanna be our drummer? We have one fellow helping us, but in fact he’s still learning. We had a couple of folks to do that, and they’re good but they’re busy. And I would love to work with a professional. Would you like?

Andrei tilted his head to the side a little.

\- You ask a drummer if he wants to be a drummer? – he summed up, and then laughed loudly and genuinely: – You bet, man! I’ve been waiting for somebody to say that for years! Not a professional, don’t flatter my skills, but I sure can do something!

Sveatik smirked, looking at him. Valera jumped to his feet:

\- We gotta all play together! Right now!

Roma smiled kindly, rising after him.

\- We just have to let Andrei hear some of our stuff first, - he said with a slight smile. – If nobody minds… Valera has a surprise for you, as he has had for us all. You’ll see. Come on?

\- You won’t have to play a lot, - Andrei said with a smile. If somebody helps me with my drums – I stopped not quite far from here – I’ll join you in a moment. I catch rhythms easily, so I won’t make you mad.

He said it so simply, as if it was him who had to thank the guys for letting him join the group. As if it wasn’t an honour for them – to play with a hero. He didn’t think of himself as a hero at all, he was so simple, that Valera stepped forward, gaining unexpected courage:

\- I’ll help.

Three bottles stood in a row right by the sofa, and Valera managed to step exactly the way to knock them down.

\- And I, - Roma bent down and helped Valera with the bottles. He really wanted to be useful, and furthermore, the Martian needed his support.

Andrei smiled.

\- Very well then. Let’s go!

They followed him as he paced quickly down the street, turned once, and again, and then finally stopped for a moment in front of a house – and Romashka raised his eyebrows. They exchanged glances with Valera as Andrei walked up the steps to open the door, and finally Romashka dared:

\- Is this where you’re gonna live?

Andrei looked over his shoulder at him, then turned and nodded simply.

\- One good lady Marioara suggested that I stay here, because she lives alone and the house is quite big for her… I don’t think I’ll stay here for long, I never stay on one place for long at all, so no need to start building a house of my own now…

\- Look, - Roma pointed at the house to the right of Andrei’s, - Vitea lives here. And there, a little further down, across the road, live I, Mihai, Slava and Valera.

Andrei smiled widely.

\- Awesome, - he said. – Come in.

Roma and Valera followed him inside the house, looking around and trying to step as quietly as they could. The drums were arranged masterfully in the corner of the Casa Mare. Andrei knelt down next to the set to take them apart, when Valera decided:

\- Why don’t we just fly?

Andrei turned to look up at him.

\- You wanna? – he asked in something like surprise. – Why, I actually don’t like flying. And attracting more eyes… - he stood up and stretched himself, then looked at Valera again kindly. – Tired of it on my way, you know. But it’s okay if you wish, it’s not difficult. And you won’t have to carry the heavy drums, better they would carry us! – he smiled widely and slapped his forehead. – Oh, stupid me, I should have thought of it right then! So do you want to fly? Roma?

\- We’d love to! – Roma hurried to reassure. – If it’s not difficult to you, why not?

Andrei nodded. He quickly took the place at the drums and picked up the drumsticks. For just a moment he was seemingly remembering something, then raised his hands – and a powerful drum sound filled the room. As the sticks beat every drum, it started glowing slightly, and in that excellent rhythmical noise Andrei shouted something barely understandable – and the entire set, together with the drummer, flew up into the air. Andrei made a graceful move, as if writing some sign in the air with the sticks, and the drums rearranged in the air. Andrei jumped up to the biggest one and made a slight motion with his head. The bird-shaped set sank slowly to the floor and stopped just a centimetre or two above the ground. Valera and Roma, fascinated, forgot that they were going to fly as well, and Andrei stretched his arm out.

\- Come on, fellas, - he invited, and the two, quickly collecting themselves, jumped onto the slightly glowing drums.

\- Woah! – Valera almost fell as the drumset flew quickly up into the air and made a circle above the floor of the Casa Mare, but Roma caught his hand, laughing. Andrei was shining. No matter how, he said, he didn’t like flying, his eyes were telling them otherwise.

\- Hold on! – he shouted, standing with his legs far apart for balance, leaning forward, like a biker. – We have to fly out of the door first of all, watch your heads!

And rapidly and quietly the drumset made another circle and then flew out of the house, the doors slamming behind it. Valera gasped, almost hitting his head against the door frame, but in a moment, as they climbed higher, he was already standing upright on one of the smaller drums, laughing and balancing funnily. Roma, astonished, stood with his legs apart on two drums on the unmoving ‘wing’ and watching the world outside the old fortress.

\- Valera… - he whispered. – Look… the horizon…

\- What? – Valera laughed through the roar of the wind in their ears, but Roma didn’t want to repeat. He stretched his arm out to grasp Andrei’s shoulder and in a moment he was standing on the biggest drum. Andrei turned to him, but Roma was staring, eyes wide, forward.

\- Andrei, - he managed, choking on the wind beating him in the face fiercely, - please, can we make another circle over the fortress? Please, can we? Just fly as high as you can and slow down. I must see it all.

Andrei was examining his tense face for a second or two, then nodded. He turned his back to the guys and put his hands on his knees for balance.

\- Hold on, - he announced calmly and loudly. – We’re falling upwards.

And, with a barely noticeable move of his head, the drumset rushed vertically up, making Valera collapse to his knees with a gasp.

But Roma didn’t even look over his shoulder to check on his younger friend. He moved a little to the left, his knees half-bent for balance, staring down in astonishment. He saw the old fortress exactly as it looked on the maps, with thick walls forming a strange shape, with the mosaic of little houses and the maze of narrow streets – and the dim red heart of the castle in the middle. People were barely visible, like bright moving dots on the surface of that living map.

The walls were surrounded with a narrow stripe of a field – or rather what was once a field, and now was turned into a pale ginger wilderness. And from all sides the black desert was creeping towards that wilderness in a failed attempt to consume it. From all sides – except for one spot. There the desert backed off a little, giving way to the grey-green cold pool of Mafia-ruled City C. Even the black desert was afraid, even its destructive power trembled in front of that cold grey colour, though it was just a puddle in endless empty blackness.

Roma narrowed his eyes and slowly sank down to one knee, staring piercingly down. Many, many dots of darker grey colour, like millions of ants, or drops of quicksilver, were flowing down the straight wide streets of City C, between the tall buildings of brick, cement and glass – and their memory. The tiny streams of living beings were flowing together into big and bigger rivers, all running to the same destination – to the central square, to the grey sea. They were seemingly endless, running – pouring – out of the houses and joining the liquid-like crowd.

\- Where are they going?.. – Valera whispered into Roma’s ear.

But before Roma could say a thing, Andrei suddenly shook his head in unexpected rage – and the drumset rushed forward, made a loop and ‘fell upwards’ again. Valera grasped at Roma’s arm semiconsciously as his feet slipped. Roma lost his breath and held on to the drums. He looked up at Andrei, squinting through the wind, and saw his stone-solid, sturdy figure. God knows how he managed to stand on feet. He shook his head again, and Roma noticed his pained expression – just for a moment, because the flying drumset made another loop, flew a few meters upside down – and then, after a short fast whirl, suddenly stopped.

Roma raised his head, panting heavily, his heart pounding somewhere in his throat, and finally dared to unclench his wet white trembling fingers. He slowly sat up and looked around to check on Valera – only now he noticed the lack of his friend’s grasp on his upper arm. To his relief, Valerica, completely and absolutely alive, though white as a sheet, was sitting on one of the smaller drums on the ‘wing’, squeezing his head with his hands.

\- You… just… - and choked.

Roma stood up on shaky feet and looked around again, this time with more attention.

The drumset was hanging in midair higher above the ground. People weren’t visible any more, even as the smallest dots. Roma looked down and saw the black desert which Moldovanshire was turned into, all spotted with lots and lots of cold grey puddles of the cities. The desert was endless, shabby, always hungry and scary – like a beast. Roma squinted and even through the mist he could notice tiny grey threads everywhere across the blackness. And they all were connecting the grey pools and City C.

His heart skipped a beat. He felt that it couldn’t be without a reason, but he superstitiously didn’t let himself think a thought to an end. Valera by his side, already standing up, was scratching his left arm fiercely, looking down.

\- What do you see there? – he asked quietly, glancing at Romashka.

\- You’re scratching, - Roma remarked absently.

Valera rubbed his arm quickly and thrust his hands in his pockets.

\- You didn’t have to, - Roma sighed. – I said that not because it was bothering me. We all know in what cases you start scratching.

\- What do you see there?

Roma ran his fingers through his hair.

\- I understand not more than your scratching instinct here. I have a suggestion, but what does it mean? I can’t be sure. I can’t check.

\- Something’s wrong.

\- I’m not sure.

\- But if I’m scratching.

\- I still don’t know everything. We’ll see. Hush.

\- Are you kidding?! – Lera frowned. – It’s a question of our safety, isn’t it? If you see something there that can be dangerous, we have to prepare! We have to be ready for an attack, man! Or what is the Basta Mafia for, then? Or do you want the second Massacre?!

A shadow ran across Roma’s face, and he opened his mouth to say something, when the kind voice interrupted:

\- Hey guys!

They both looked at Andrei. He smiled.

\- We wanted to play, didn’t we? Why argue, especially so high above the ground? We’d better go down now and play all together, before anyone starts learning to fly. What do you think?

Roma smiled at such an unexpected solution.

\- ‘Course.

\- Then hold on! Enjoy some free falling!

Andrei closed his eyes and moved his head slowly down a little bit. Something tickled Roma’s throat from the inside and a feeling of weightlessness filled him. He closed his eyes and smiled, hearing Valerica’s loud: ‘He-hey!’ The Martian didn’t have memory for problems at all, despite being all so responsible and serious at times. Roma smiled wider. He said his reason to the Martian in his thoughts: ‘Basta Mafia was created to make us happy despite everything that has happened. It was created for living in peace. And we will. And if even somebody attack – we love our peaceful life, we love our Moldovanshire, and our love will give us the power. So don’t you worry, Valerica Fara Frica!’

Oh, Valerica! Roma could imagine Andrei’s eyes when he’d see the Almighty Trumpet. He exhaled and took a deep breath again, then raised his face to the sky and sounded his ‘Wahoo!!!’ over the peaceful Basta Mafia, not afraid of anything at all.


	6. Dansuri

Mihai and Sveatik were tuning up their instruments, exchanging phrases. Slava was talking lively; Andrei, Roma and Valera could hear his voice immediately as they opened the door of the studio. Mihai strummed and answered calmly. Breathing heavily under the weight of the drums, fellas couldn’t distinguish the words, only the voices. As they entered, Sveatik was seemingly about to say something, but Mihai raised his head, hiding a smile, and interrupted without much emphasis:

\- You’ll tell me later. We were going to play, weren’t we?

\- Exactly, - Roma put down the drums he was carrying and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. – Valer, help me?

\- Sveatik hurried to help, too, Mihai following suit, even though Andrei was trying to push them all away (“Oh God, fellas, can’t I do it all myself, you don’t have to, give that to me!”), and finally they all together arranged the drumset in the corner of the studio which was once so terribly empty.

\- Feels like home now, - Andrei said delightedly, rubbing his hands. – Though you didn’t have to help me at all. I appreciate that, sure, but I’m used to doing everything myself.

\- Now it’s time to change your habits, - Sveatik smiled. – Start getting used to our help.

\- I don’t have to, - Andrei said, shrugging. – I will probably have to leave. Soon. Don’t know when. Don’t know why. I don’t know… at all. I just know I will have to go.

\- Nobody knows for sure, let’s be honest with ourselves, - Mihai tapped Andrei’s shoulder. – Come on, let’s play. Valera?

Valerica smiled knowingly and hurried to take his trumpet case. He grabbed it, looked at everybody cunningly, with a wide smile, and then quickly unzipped the case and arranged the shiny parts of the instrument together – and then, with one short and graceful move, full of slightly ridiculous awe – he never did really became aware of what he played – he showed everybody the group’s pride.

The silence fell. All the eyes were on Andrei. Valerica was watching him childishly proudly: ‘Look what I have here!’ Sveatik was smirking knowingly: ‘Here we come, with the Almighty Trumpet in the arsenal!’ Romashka’s face was lit up with a wide smile: ‘Hey man, he does play it!’ Vitea was looking from Valerica to Andrei kindly, as if at children: ‘The games they play…’, and Mihai’s face had a strange expression, with mixed awe, pride and some irony never leaving his dark eyes.

Andrei examined Valerica in no hurry, stopping his gaze first – on his smile, then – on the instrument. And then, to dead silence, he smiled widely and stepped towards the young Martian.

\- Let me shake your hand, Valerica, - he said, holding his hand out. – I actually heard of the Almighty Trumpet, but – heck, I’ve never seen the man who could play that alive!

Valeria laughed and hurried towards him to shake his hand.

\- Maybe at least you can explain, what’s so special about this trumpet? No, I know that every instrument is special itself, but this one is as famous as if it, I don’t know, talks, or, like, cures cancer…

Andrei looked in Valerica’s eyes strangely, and his smile faded. The stare was so long and intense that the young Martian backed up a little and tilted his head to the side, knitting his eyebrows slightly. Andrei smiled softly again and sighed.

\- The time will come and you will know. The ones who played it before you had found out for themselves – and then it was their choice to keep its magic in secret. Who knows – maybe you will reveal the secret? Your choice. By the way, how did you get it?

Valerica smiled adorably.

\- I told the fellas… for the last year of my music school my teacher gave that to me – for my birthday. It’s in the beginning of September, you know, so that was right on time… and she said I’d learned to play very well by then. And just since then I’d been practicing on this one, and it didn’t bother anybody… perhaps they all knew that she had some plan. And that trumpet stayed with me, you know. God knows how she had got it – I still don’t know. She wasn’t rich at all, maybe she inherited it, or something…

\- It isn’t so important, actually, - Andrei smiled reassuringly. – I’d love to hear you all play, fellas. You go!

They all hurried to take their instruments, while Roma stopped facing the others, quite worried – he as a front man was always watched the most and playing for the hero – no matter how he behaved – felt responsible.

He glanced at Mihai. The bassist nodded reassuringly.

\- The Gypsy and the UFO? – he asked.

Roma nodded actively. Mihai announced the decision to all the fellas and tapped the rhythm with his foot, singing the drum line as he could.

The first notes flew into the air, the music grew, gaining the power – the strings and the wind – and as soon as Romashka took a deep breath to sing, together with his voice the powerful drum sound broke into their music.

It was unexpected, but Andrei caught the rhythm immediately. It shook the song up. It was a completely new sound, and even though Mihai could hear a little of that uncertainty in between the beats, quite like that one their temporary drummer had, - it was probably because Andrei hadn’t really played in a while – the sound was absolutely different. And with that change everybody seemed to feel much easier. Romashka started jumping – first a little, and then higher – and dancing stupid dances, as he always did onstage. Valerica let go of all the worry and gave himself to music completely. Vitea exchanged glances with him, with Romashka – and raised his eyebrows. Mihai smiled to himself as he enjoyed the music they were making all together, straight to the last note, until the littlest trace of the sound dissolved in the air of the studio – and only then he threw his hair out of his face and looked up.

Andrei shook his head and exclaimed:

\- Now that’s music, fellas! Oh God, I should learn a lot!

Everybody was standing there, eyes wide, panting heavily (especially Sveatik: his short hair stuck to his forehead and his t-shirt was all wet), with stupid smiles on their faces as they were staring at Andrei. The hero exhaled and stood up.

\- But wanna know what? We lack something here, - he said cunningly.

He took two or three carpets off the walls where they were hanging, came up to Roma – and quickly adjusted them under his wide belt. Roma didn’t even try to fight those quite awkward moves, though his face said a lot. Andrei took a few steps back and examined Roma delightedly.

\- This way better.

\- Now do you know I wear them when we play on stage? – Roma asked quite confusedly. – I needed everybody to think it’s a kilt…

\- Oh God, what did I know? – Andrei laughed. – I just thought you would be better this way, with all your jumps and with your arms like this, – he copied Romashka’s shamanic moves, - so now you have here!

Roma put his hands on his knees and laughed loudly, embarrassed and happy.

\- And now, guys, - Andrei said more seriously, coming up to them - let me tell you something interesting. I just looked at you, - he pointed his finger at Sveatik, - and I wonder if you know that Slava is a fire guy. Or you don’t look at him when you play?

\- What do you mean – a fire guy? – Slava asked, putting his guitar away and wiping his forehead with the back of his hand, still panting.

\- Shake your head, like you do when you play, - Andrei suggested, as if it was something completely usual. – You haven’t got cold yet. And you, guys – watch.

Under the five stares Slava frowned a little, then shrugged, letting it go, and shook his head wholeheartedly, as he always did – back and forth, in half-circles, to the sides… and the astonished group watched little, and then bigger and bigger flames run across his dishevelled bright orange hair.

\- He can fly, by the way, but that’s another story, - Andrei remarked quickly, hiding the chuckle.

Slava stopped immediately and ran his fingers through his hair, looking absolutely helpless under the guys’ frightened stares. He searched the amp for his glasses – he always left them on it whenever he planned to give a little more of himself on the rehearsal, – put them on, giving himself even more helpless look, and, completely lost, asked:

\- What’s there?

\- Flames, - Mihai stated, raising his eyebrows. – You’re actually on fire when you play. Man, I never noticed. Did you know?

Mihai was visibly surprised, and it was quite hard to make him so.

\- Oh… - Slava managed before sinking to his knees and grabbing his head with his both hands. It wasn’t a move of despair, he was just exhausted after the musical ecstasy, and that new shock made his legs give way. He frowned and straightened his fingers, then clenched his hands again, trying hard to collect himself and understand how he was gonna live with that new news.

\- Oh God, - Andrei muttered and hurried towards Sveatik with that little smirk – it reminded surprisingly of the ginger’s own. – Slava! Slava, hey, man, don’t worry! There, princess, it has a logical explanation.

\- Yeah? What? – Slava managed quite weakly, letting go of his hair – not a single degree hotter than usual – and adjusting his glasses, glancing at Andrei.

\- You just simply have too much energy burning inside you, - Andrei explained. – It happens, you’re not the only one of that kind.

\- Yes? – Slava raised his brows, narrowing his eyes. – So, you say, half a world is on fire when they play guitars? Now that’s new news, I had to know better!

A sarcastic smile appeared on his face. He ruffled his hair again and pressed his fists to his cheeks, trying to catch a trace of high temperature or something.

\- No, not that… - Andrei tried, but got lost and rubbed his face with his hands. – Gosh, let me try again. Some people – like you, for example, - have way more energy than they can use in their everyday life. And they’re in need of much more adrenaline than they can find in the routine. The inner energy sleeps only till a specific moment. One day it starts making its way out. It shows in different ways – but, I must say, the fire guys were rarely peaceful. The energy stored inside for long decays and instead of bright red, like blood, its colour becomes black…

Do you think I talk metaphor?

Sveatik smirked and said nothing.

\- I don’t, - Andrei said seriously. – I think you didn’t let your energy sleep much. You’re so bright… you’re a rare bird, Slava.

\- By the way, how do you say it always burns, but nobody ever noticed that? – Roma asked.

\- Nobody of the spectators?

\- Yes.

\- It’s because Slava himself didn’t know, - Andrei explained simply. – That’s the curious thing. But now they won’t see that either. Nobody but you can. You’re special, you’ll se how it is later.

\- That’s all good, very good, but what if I set the stage on fire? – Slava inquired, leaning back onto the amp and examining Andrei with that special sparkle of interest in his eyes.

\- It doesn’t burn, - Andrei smiled. – If you wish, you can light your fire right now, and put your hand in it – and nothing will happen.

\- Oh yes? – Slava tilted his head to the side and narrowed his eyes.

\- Yes, - Andrei answered simply. – Try it.

Sveatik raised his eyebrows a little, still squinting at Andrei.

\- Shall I help you?

Slava smirked.

\- You understand me.

\- Okay, a moment, - Andrei sighed. – It’s actually not always a good thing, turning on the discovered power for somebody, but, I guess, it’ll be okay? I’ll do that for you once – and then you’ll shine like a lantern whenever something gets you out of balance – in whichever way. Ready?

Sveatik sniffed.

\- Duh!

Andrei shrugged, took Sveatik’s wrist and pulsed a little rhythm on his vein with his thumb. The fellas watched quietly as their mate’s bright orange hair lit up – first the tiny flames ran across it, then, as Sveatik moved his lips slightly and looked away a little tensely, the flames grew and finally a whole little fire was burning on the top of Sveatik’s head. Andrei looked over his shoulder, letting go of Sveatik’s arm, and invited the others with a slight move of his head.

\- Come on, fellas!

Roma was the bravest. He jumped to his feet, ran up to Slava and with loud laugh ruffled his hair. Romashka’s hands were running right through the fire, but coming out of it unharmed. Slava squinted and smiled widely, reminding of a big delighted cat. Roma adored playing with him like that, and even though most of the time Slava made faces at him, he secretly enjoyed it.

The other fellas rushed towards Slava, running their hands through the fire, ruffling his hair, and feeling no heat, while Sveatik was sitting there, his eyes closed, his smile wide, finally delighted, burning even brighter. Andrei watched them like a father. He was soon joined by phlegmatic Vitea. They sat by, like proud dads at the playground, watching their big little children. Roma, Valera and even Mihai were having fun rolling on the floor, tickling each other, fighting playfully and poking each other with burning Sveatik (who was all but purring with delight), laughing loudly and shouting, like little children. They didn’t even think of Andrei any more.

\- How can you stand being with them every day? – Andrei asked Victor quietly with a wide smile.

Vitea shrugged and smiled back, glancing at Cebotari.

\- I don’t know. I’m just so used to them already. What would they do without me? – he laughed. – I’m the only trombone player. And all those folk instruments… but, to be honest, it’s just that I’m already in the family. We’re the family, Andrei, man.

\- Friends, brothers and fathers to each other at once, eh?

\- Something like that, - Vitea replied softly. – Sometimes I feel much older than them. Such a big brother… but it doesn’t make me anyhow better than them, you know? We’re all equal… - and added after a pause: - Why don’t you stay?

\- I can’t choose here, - Andrei said, standing up. – I roll with the flow. Let’s see where it comes, Vitea.

Vitea nodded and smiled with the corners of his lips.

\- Let’s…

***

Bunica and Bunelul, and everybody after them, wanted to hear them play. Play all together, which meant with Andrei. Try immediately, however difficult it would be. Of course, Andrei was not quite that usual a drummer, and it didn’t have to be a two-hour-long concert, but rather a first time working as a new team on stage, yet still it felt kind of strange. God knows why they wanted that specifically that day, and not a day later, but they did and who could do anything to change that?

So, the band had a little time to rehearse till the evening, even though it was quite difficult to concentrate with the new discoveries of theirs. It brought kind of that half-nervous excitement in their mood. Of course it wasn’t a problem for Valerica, who would always give himself to the music completely, no matter what, but as they tried song after song and Andrei didn’t find much difficulty in finding the right rhythm and line, Romashka jumped higher and higher, constantly having fun. With every success he got more and more into the mood, jumping around Slava, ‘helping’ him play his guitar with everything he could find, changing the words in songs, shouting and making any serious work impossible.

It actually got Mihai kind of scared. He was always the most afraid that they all would make something wrong – still, after years of working as a team, and especially now with the new drummer, who would be heard about the best. He cursed more often than ever, waved his hands and finally broke into shout at Romashka and ended up bashing everybody and their instrument. That’s when Andrei raised his hand, calling for silence, and suggested a marathon: the entire concert programme and he’d try to catch up. If they succeed, they can then play however they wish and jump however high and just have a ball. Everybody agreed immediately – and, much to their surprise, the marathon ran extremely smoothly. As the last sound dissolved – the program wasn’t very long – Andrei smiled at Mihai with simple: ‘How was it?’ Sveatik smirked, went up to Mihai, put his hand in front of his mouth as a beak and answered, copying him: ‘Bit-chin’!’ And Mihai was bought.

He stopped all the attempts to calm his friend down at least a little, as they all were in vain, and just let them all do whatever they wished, adjusting as he played – for such a professional musician as Mihai it wasn’t too difficult, what’s more with his fellas he was used to. He and Andrei seemed to have caught that common vibe. Soon he even took to it and started shaking his head slightly in enjoyment. Vitea was playing with a long face for hardly five minutes of the marathon, but he soon let it go and had fun himself the rest of the time, making hilarious faces at Romashka, cheering him up even more. Valerica didn’t even care how they played, either his Almighty Trumpet led him or he himself had something – he sounded equally well in everything. Mihai, as always, remarked that he was kinda sad, but Valera gave him that smile of his and replied with his usual ‘just deep in thought’.

But nothing lasts forever, and neither did their unusual rehearsal. Running the last little flames across his hair, Sveatik put his guitar down and stretched himself.

\- So what, let’s go?

\- Sure, - Vitea dropped. – Pack the instruments and let’s rock.

\- I’m nervous, - Mihai informed.

\- Who isn’t? – Roma smiled.

\- Andrei, probably, - Slava glanced at the drummer, who was tinkering with his drumset.

\- I wouldn’t be so sure, if I were you, - Andrei threw over his shoulder, smile sounding in his voice. – How much time do we have? – he quickly got serious.

\- About an hour, - Valerica glanced at his watch.

\- Very well. We still have to soundcheck and all that jazz… let’s go? Or do you prefer to fly?

\- Fly? – Sveatik’s eyebrows jumped up. – That’s interesting… how?

In a few minutes the drumset flew out of the studio, carrying the six musicians and their instruments. The doors slammed behind it, it passed in the air through the streets one moment just over the heads of the passers-by, another moment high above – and landed in front of the castle, where Nicu and a few other men from the village were setting the stage. The crowd was gathering, but Andrei managed to land in a quiet corner, and then they all together carried the drums and everything onto the stage as if nothing happened. Sveatik and Valerica were smiling, waving their hands at all the folks, exchanging short greetings, Mihai and Romashka were looking down, God knows if kinda tired or just deep in thought, and Vitea and Andrei were walking behind them all, talking quietly. They arranged the instruments on the stage and, having a few more minutes, went down to relax before the show itself. Everybody except for Mihai – he stayed, adjusting something and tinkering with the amps and the microphones.

Vitea and Andrei wandered somewhere behind the stage together, Valerica joined the little laughing company of the girls and guys he knew (he tried to invite the others, but nobody really wanted) and Romashka and Ryjik were left under the stage. Neither hurried to go away anywhere, so they exchanged glances and just sat down onto the closest bench.

\- How do you feel about it? – Romashka asked, looking at the sky.

\- About the burning hair?

\- And that too. About everything. Andrei, the hair, the stories… all that magic.

Slava shrugged.

\- Well, you know… it’s quite strange, but that guy in Rom, remember?

\- Yeah, - Romashka shrugged, looking away. – You know, I actually think that it was that one… what’s his name, he was a great celebrity in Rom, that musician, and then he ran away one day and nobody heard of him ever since, remember?

Sveatik frowned.

\- Who?!

Romashka waved his hand.

\- There was a rumour he started practicing some magic techniques and everybody considered him either dead or mad. Remember, there was even such a headline in newspapers: ‘Mad or Dead’?

Sveatik shrugged.

\- I guess I remember that fellow, but his name – no. Knock it off, we both know who we’re talking about. That would be actually a pretty interesting idea. That fellow taught him stuff, that’s why he’s magic… but I like Andrei, he’s a nice guy. I liked his stories about the Romanian generals and people of class. You know, it’s kinda… well, interesting.

Roman nodded thoughtfully.

\- I always wanted to know how they’re doing there, above us. And that’s how…

\- Yeah.

There was a moment of silence, then Sveatik quickly brushed it away.

\- Look, anyway. He told us how he dined with all those, how he was invited everywhere, how they all were running after him… and he just, you know, ran away! I don’t believe he never let himself bathe in the rays of fame.

Romashka smirked.

\- Well, ask him about that! I actually don’t know whether I think so or believe that Andrei told us all the truth.

\- Oh come on! He’s just a man, isn’t he? Like me and you, damn, just a fellow from.. where, City S? I think he gave a weakness, ha-ha!

Romashka smiled and turned away.

\- Get off! Can you talk about anything but the others’ personal life once in a while?

Sveatik shook his ginger head.

\- Nope! You must agree that it’s interesting!

\- VERY.

Sveatik poked him in the ribs with his elbow.

\- Don’t open your mouth… but hey, just look at Andrei! I expected a hero to love himself more than he does!

\- You’re not a hero and you make up for him completely…

Sveatik laughed aloud. Roma smiled, showing all his long teeth.

\- You know that it’s not true.

Roma ruffled Sveatik’s hair, causing tiny flames to run between his fingers, and put his arm around his shoulders.

\- I just like teasing you, you must understand.

\- It’s because you love me, - Sveatik shook his head, smirking. His lower lip always made his grin a thousand times more self-conscious.

\- Everybody loves you anyway…

\- I thought everybody loves you.

Ryjik put his arm around Roma in return and looked up.

\- You know, - he said, after a short pause, - I just thought that it’s freakin’ cool to have burning hair. What if my girl appears to be special, as we are? We could do a lot about that, if you know… - Roma pulled a face and Sveatik laughed, burying his face in Romashka’s shoulder.

\- Get off! – Romashka laughed and tried to push the ginger away.

\- Keep dreaming!

But he straightened and took a few deep breaths, trying to stop laughing, but didn’t really succeed, so he went on laughing:

\- Or we can invent special cigarettes and when y’all light’em on my head, people will lose their fuckin’ eyes! They’ll just roll out! Ha-ha-ha!

He threw his head back, choking with laughter.

\- You smoke something wrong, - Roma threw with a wide smile.

\- I know what I smoke! Want some of my stuff? Maybe it will help us invent the cigarettes for special people?

Romashka sniffed, but his smile was the same.

\- I just imagine me walking around with fire on my head! Damn, it’s like I’m in a cartoon now!

\- Folks can’t see it anyway, - Roma remarked.

Slava sniffed.

\- Oh come on, whatever. But it’s cool! You see. I see, I don’t know, fellas see. And we could laugh together, making them all confused… and lighting cigarettes we’ll invent!

He laughed again.

\- You think like a schoolboy.

\- Perhaps, - Sveatik adjusted the glasses on his reddened nose. – Perhaps I am a schoolboy. An annoying high school idiot. Look at me! – he glanced at Roma from under the glasses and pulled a face. Romashka sniffed. - And you aren’t?

Roma looked at Sveatik and his smile and eyes grew sad.

\- To be honest… sometimes I’d so-o-o like to be…

\- Sometimes you are.

Roma looked away.

\- You are! – Ryjik insisted. – Oh, look at you, bore! You jump around in carpets and skirts! Don’t even let me start on jokes and skinny-dipping!

Roma smiled widely again.

\- Might be, might be. When I look at you, I see I still have a lot to learn.

Sveatik laughed.

\- Well, but you heard what Andrei said. And you saw me burn. I’m a fire guy!

He bent his arms, clenching fists, like a superman, but with his skinny body there weren’t much muscles to show. Romashka pinched his bicep and they started a mocking fight. Romashka was the first to catch Sveatik’s wrists.

\- There, tiger. I won. And be quiet about carpets.

\- HEY PEOPLE?

Sveatik stood up, as if he was going to talk to the crowd, freeing himself from Roma expressly fiercely, though nobody was listening to him. Roma giggled, stood up himself and pushed Ryjik down. They fell onto the bench together, and it screeched under their skinny bottoms.

\- Slava! Roma!

They both looked up. Mihai gestured at them to come.

\- Right now! – Sveatik called, as Mihai turned to call all the others.

They both rose and ran lightly onto the stage. Mihai called at Sveatik for the soundcheck. Slava strummed, tried the mic, and again, until Mihai was satisfied. Then he took his glasses off and went to put them somewhere. Roma adjusted his carpets and tried the mic at Mihai’s command. It seemed that everybody knew and laughed at him but he tried not to think about it.

\- Hey Roma?

He turned back and met Sveatik’s look.

\- Good luck, - the ginger said and smiled slightly.

\- And good luck to you, - Roma smirked. – Don’t set the stage on fire.

\- Well, not much to lose if I burn your carpet! – Sveatik ‘shot’ his finger at him: ‘Caughtcha!’ – Nice pants you have there… if any.

\- Oh shut up…

\- But seriously! Don’t jump too high. Not everybody wants to see your underwear… unless you stole mine.

Romashka bit his finger, hiding the chuckle. Stupid, stupid jokes, and still it was funny as hell. ‘What am I, college student? What does it matter that he stole my tee once? Or is it the revenge?’

\- Besides, maybe my fire doesn’t burn hands, but does burn…

\- Be quiet!

\- Your car-

Sveatik stopped in the middle of the word and laughed. Roma smiled widely and looked around. The wind’s soundcheck was done, the drums had sounded. They could go down and finish the last preparations in themselves. The crowd was flowing like a sea towards the stage. The time was coming, and they still, despite everything, were a little bit nervous. But they hoped for the best and relied on the power…

***

It was in the middle of Tempo that Roma noticed something was wrong. They all were already used to the sight of the tall spotted greyish wall instead of the line of the horizon. But this time as he looked at it, it seemed… taller or what? Maybe slightly greyer than usual? He couldn’t tell. But he couldn’t help looking at it again and again.

He caught a second during the bridge in between jumping and having fun to examine the wall carefully again, squinting. There was no use. He couldn’t distinguish anything in the thick greyish mass closing the horizon from the view. He tried to let it go and just keep on singing, but something was wrong and he felt it all too well. His thoughts and his stare kept returning to the old fortified wall.

…Or was it? It was so unusually big, it stood out especially harshly, it pressed on his mind from far away, it was way too heavy today.

Romashka looked around. Everybody in Basta Mafia (or everybody in Casa Mare, as he sometimes jokingly called them as they all were such a big family) – everybody in Casa Mare was already used to him exchanging glances with the group, some even found it extremely cute (as they would confess, squeeing with exaltation, as they got an occasional autograph), so he didn’t worry. Sveatik was burning bright, and Roma could only wonder why nobody could see the fire on the ginger hair. Vitea was somewhere not there with his thoughts, as usual – he was staring at the sky somewhere far away and Roma always wondered what he could see there. Andrei was seemingly deep into drumming, with the ‘rocker-face’, quite like Sveatik’s, and genuine contentment in his smile, but his big bright eyes glanced at the frontman knowingly for barely a second – and Romashka felt shivers run down his spine. Was it something he didn’t dare even think about? Ha glanced at the wall again – it seemed even taller and even darker – and then at Mihai. His old friend’s hair fell into his face, and he didn’t even bother brushing it away or at least shaking his head. His face was invisible. Romashka swallowed unwillingly. A little heavy ball of fear was slowly and painfully going round in his abdomen, not letting him jump. He forced himself to smile as he looked at the audience again. He still had his last hope.

‘Tempo! Tempo!

Acum eşti hotărât

Viaţa s-o traieşti în ritmul potrivit!’

And another instrumental. He glanced at Valerica – and his heart sank deep, deep down. The young Martian, who was in fact desperately looking around in search for support, grasped at Roma’s gaze with his and his fake smile as he brought the cimpoi to his lips couldn’t trick his friend. Romashka walked slowly across the stage towards Valerica, doing his best to look easy, and stopped by him, sharing the mike with him for another ‘Hello! Hello!’ In the next little pause Valerica’s right hand twitched towards his left shoulder involuntarily – and, as he caught himself on that move, back to the cimpoi. He looked up at Roma, feeling his stare. And nodded, barely noticeably. He felt. The next moment, he looked at the audience with a smile.

Roma left his side and, singing the last refrain, walked across the stage back to the front. Did it just seem to him, or was the grey wall actually moving? Was it the powerful sound that made the stage vibrate? In a few moments he got the answer. The unusual tremor turned into violent shaking and the rhythmical stomp sounded, overwhelming the fading beat. The last long note broke in the middle in Roma’s throat and hurt him. Now he could distinguish a thousand of feet in the grey mass. A mighty army, a wall made of grey soldiers was moving fast towards them.

The first shout broke the silence and their immediate shock. The crowd turned into a raging sea. People understood what was happening and started panicking. Somebody was the first to rush in a desperate attempt to climb onto the tiny boat of the stage. And the musicians couldn’t stay on one place for long. The fire on Sveatik’s head rose anew, Mihai threw the hair out of his face, revealing the furious sparkles in his black eyes, Vitea put down his fluier slowly, tensed and ready to run forward. But Valera was the first to collect himself. He quickly freed himself from the cimpoi and was going to jump off the stage when Andrei’s voice, unusually loud, sounded:

\- Keep playing!

It was unexpectedly imperious, that was the tone you would expect from a hero. Everybody stopped, but Valerica turned back sharply. His cheeks and ears were burning.

\- You joking?! – he exclaimed fiercely. – These are my people. Am I supposed to stay here and entertain myself? And the hero – the goddamn hero! – says that to me?

Andrei tried to say something, but Valera jumped towards him. This was a completely new Valera, not the Martian they were used to know – mostly quiet, with that charming smile, the kindest, the most wonderful person ever known. This Valerica had his fists clenched and under his wet T-shirt every single muscle was visible. He trembled with badly held anger.

\- If that’s what you say, I will never call you my hero a time again, hear me? Never ever! I’mma stand up and fight, and even if I die, I’ll die with no regrets, for I’ll die for my people! You hear me?!

\- I won’t let you die, you idiot! – Andrei’s voice sounded as he rose. He wasn’t shouting, but his voice was thunder-like. – If you listen to me now, everybody will stay alive! Keep playing, I say, and if for a single moment you doubt, you can rush head over heels into the battle and feel free to die! But if you believe, we’ll make a miracle. All six of us. We can make it! Hora Cosmica now!

Valerica’s nostrils flared, but Roma didn’t let him do anything he’d regret. He put a firm arm around his shoulders and said quietly into his ear:

\- Do as he says, Valerica Fara Frica. Trust him as I do. Please. Do this for us, as we’re your people, too.

Valera glanced at Roma, then at Ryjik. A moment before the ginger was ready to rush to the battle himself, but he’d changed his mind. He took his guitar and nodded reassuringly. The amp answered with a moan to the incautious move. Valerica sniffed.

\- Roma, Slava, - he said quietly, with a little pressure, - I trust you. I trust you all, fellas, - he looked around at the band. – Let’s play. If he… - he started with more emphasis, but swallowed his rage and went on quietly: - If Andrei has the point… if he knows… let’s just see.

And he went to take the trumpet. Vitea looked at Andrei with question in his eyes. Andrei’s face didn’t change. He looked like a hero now. He only nodded to the So Lucky guy and, making sure that everyone was ready, gave them the beat.

It was difficult for Roma to try and concentrate on the lively song. He closed his eyes. He had to. ‘Digli-digli, digli-digli, digli-digli-da. Hora cosmica, cu Zdubii lumea va juca!’ It was harsh. He heard the people’s cries. Somebody probably stopped and looked at them as at idiots. Somebody was probably cursing them. Roma closed his eyes, swearing to himself he wouldn’t open them. The idea of Andrei’s seemed more and more ridiculous. He started singing, trying to concentrate on the beat only. He sang all the way through the first verse and dared to open his eyes. And closed them immediately again. The strange thing was – there were no scarlet flashes, there was just endless grey mass. People were running away, and the Army was equipped strangely lightly…

\- Sing! – he heard Andrei’s voice through the people’s cries for help.

And he couldn’t help but obey. He took a deep breath…

And as he began to sing he felt his feet lift off the ground. He opened his eyes – and the words of the song stuck in his throat. He was flying higher, and his carpets and the wide belt holding them were glowing slightly reddish. Thank goodness I have shorts underneath, he thought stupidly as he climbed higher.

\- Sing! – Andrei commanded again. And Roma sang.

The invaders all looked up. They seemed quite surprised as they heard music – the lively, rhythmical ethnic rock – grow louder. Ryjik felt something like electricity run through his entire body as he jumped up – and didn’t land back onto the stage. It felt so natural – to fly. He made the strings sound as he felt the cable leave its socket – and he heard the music richer and stronger than he could ever make. Encouraged, he played on, more fiercely, letting the music drive him slightly insane. Suddenly his spirits rose and he felt that this – this very music – was his battle. He stood in the thin air as he did on the stage, feeling as confident, and kept playing. ‘The miracle, Andrei said? Yes. We can. We fuckin’ can. We can make it together.’

Mihai felt the strong but warm wind blow across the stage and to his feet. That wind was stronger, much stronger than Mihai himself and the man didn’t fight it. He felt the energy of the wind and let it lift him into the air over the stage – and then suddenly, as the cable dropped out of the socket, he felt unexpected warm energy rise from his feet and fill his body. It was enormous, it felt like it could overcome anything at all. With one fiat of will he locked it inside – and embraced it, letting it fill his entire body, but hurrying it towards his fingertips. Now he was strong, and it made his agitated soul calm. He was used to the calm. He loved the calm. He looked up and smiled slightly. Bitchin’. He felt the power in himself so great that, it unleashed, he could clean the place from the invaders immediately. But the power unleashed was destructive and he knew it. So his fingers ran across the strings and he kept playing.

When Vitea saw his friends fly up into the air, his first urge was to look at Andrei. Dandeş was probably the only one who trusted the hero completely from the beginning. In the long talks they had wandering away in two he found out that they had more in common than it could seem. They both longed to stay simple and down-to-earth, and they were both unusual and didn’t actually know what to do with that. Or, better to say, everybody else knew that for them. So now he looked over his shoulder, then turned to Andrei, keeping playing his part, minding his ‘keep playing’. The drummer looked up and back at Victor – and the powerful energy pushed the big young man’s feet off the stage. Vitea flew up, that incredible feeling of weightlessness curling up somewhere in his throat, and Andrei, with a powerful drum sound, followed him. They stopped in midair and exchanged knowing smiles. They both felt the power, no, they all could feel it.

Valerica was the last to stand on the stage. He looked up helplessly, playing genially, as he always did, and he felt the warm tremor of the stage, but the power passed him by, seemingly avoiding his feet. He looked up and saw all five of his friends play in midair high above his head. When Roma stopped singing, giving way to the wind solo, Valerica caught his glance down and shrugged slightly while playing. Roma pressed his hand to his chest – ‘Man, I’d SO-O-O like to help you, but how?’ – when Andrei’s voice sounded in the young Martian’s head: ‘Roma, you actually can help’. Romashka probably heard that, too, as he winced slightly and glanced at Andrei. ‘You made him believe and play – or at least try, - the voice sounded again. – So you can help him now. Come on, ask him. Ask him if he believes’. Romashka looked down at Valera unsurely. The young Martian kept playing, waiting for that look.

\- Er… do you believe Andrei now? – Romashka asked with a shrug.

Valera could only nod. ‘Yes! – shouted his inner voice. – I’m sorry for the things I said, you have to admit it all sounded ridiculous then! But now I see! Now I believe! You guys showed me the miracle!’

But he could only nod. And with that nod the Almighty Trumpet shone brightly and Valerica felt it lift him off the ground. He kept playing, his solo was rolling towards the end – and for one long painful second the fear overwhelmed him: what if the magic would be over once he stopped playing? His eyes, a moment before closed, opened wide as he was afraid to leave the last note. Releasing the sound, he felt like falling for barely a second and grasped at Roma’s arm – and understood he was standing as firmly on the thin air as on the ground. He looked at Romashka and saw his reassuring smile.

\- You can leave me now, - he said kindly. – You won’t fall.

Valerica smiled at him gratefully – and at that moment Andrei’s voice sounded again in their heads: ‘Feel that energy, fellas! Feel the power. It’s our battle, and we will win!’

And he was the first, he was the leader – he couldn’t stay in the back for long. He jumped up and they only saw his sturdy figure fly through the air over their heads, and for a moment they all got scared… but the biggest drum rolled across the stage fast and flew up into the air – and Andrei landed on the side of it gracefully. He almost fell down until the drum was just a few centimetres above the ground – and slid forward fast, his knees half-bent, ready to attack. The invaders rushed at him, not caring about the last people running scared to the shelter – and were thrown away. Andrei was seemingly dancing on the drum, and the invaders were falling, running away – and rising again.

They looked around for barely a second. There were no Basta Mafians seen anywhere, but the Army didn’t care. There wasn’t any blood on the ground, only broken benches and dust. Every single soldier was focused on Andrei.

And that’s when the guys felt their power pulse in their hearts, searching for its way out. Mihai shook his hair and, not moving his legs a little bit, he slid down to the ground and, almost touching it with his feet, joined Andrei. The invaders were strong, but Mihai was fast and flexible. Crouching or flying up into the air, he was avoiding the hits and striking rarely, but precisely himself.

Everybody rushed to the battle. Ryjik cared the least to avoid being hit. But that didn’t change much, because he was seemingly tireless, his powerful hits were raining down on the grey soldiers, and every time he hit the little flash of fire would appear for a second between him and his aim. He was burning brighter than usual and the soldiers seemed to see his fire. They feared fire. They backed off, but he attacked again. But being so into the battle and barely looking around he risked a lot, so in a few seconds Roma ventured to fight in tandem with him. Now they were in the air back to back, interlacing the hits with the spells. The words to say just came to them from different songs and turned into magic just flying into the air. They were jumping, rolling and exchanging places, and crouching, and flying, and making somersaults in the air – it reminded more a dance than a fight. And it was so easy to knock a grey soldier down!

\- Everybody hora mare! – and with that shout Roma would slide forward, and his carpets would fly up and surround him with a mighty powerful circle. The reddish light hit the soldiers with its rays – but they were seemingly undefeatable. They rose and rose again.

It soon became strangely funny. The entire army was thrown just to get them six, they didn’t even look around for the others. It was like a game, but for that moment, in rage, the fellas didn’t quite notice. They had such a chance to fight, to show the power, to be boys, that they didn’t think of anything else.

Vitea had just discovered that his fluier could turn into a dagger all made of firm light. The big fellow felt unusually weightless and it was a very pleasant feeling. He flew up and looked around first of all – and, much to his delight, he saw that there were no innocent Basta Mafians on the battlefield any more. He sighed with relief, flew higher – and then fell to the ground – just to stop his freefall unexpectedly and attack. Now he could use all the luck the stars gave him for the good.

The fluier-dagger was light and Vitea could soon use it not worse than a part of his body. The blade made out of thick light was drawing beautiful figures in the air – and the grey soldiers, faithful to the order they had got, hesitated. They were backing off – and Vitea laughed, and his fighting dance was quite clumsy, but the luck he had made up for it – the grey soldiers fell, or were thrown away, even though none stayed down. Those people were changed, brainwashed, shaped and used by the Mafia to be the war machines.

Valerica was fierce at first. His trumpet riffs were heard all over the battlefield – he quickly noticed that one special melody made the soldiers back off. What’s more, he had been practicing martial arts before, so he felt home there on the battlefield. The powerful strikes of magic, the spells – and, finally, the hits (because the Almighty Trumpet was hard and heavy and glowing, and seemingly nothing could damage it) were throwing the grey soldiers to the ground again and again. But then, rising up into the air again, Valerica took a moment to look around – and his eyebrows slowly arched upwards.

\- What the heck?.. – he mouthed.

There was not a soldier less on the battlefield. None was injured, or even simply scratched. The huge grey army was moving waves – forward and backward, up and down… they were falling and rising, and rising and falling, but none stayed down. All his attempts were in vain. He was just wasting the power. It was still vibrating warmly against his ribs from the inside, but he suddenly felt guilty. He was trying his best to fight for his friends, for Basta Mafia… and only to find out it was all fruitless?

\- Valera?

Valerica turned his head to the voice sharply. Andrei was standing on the side of the drum, examining the young Martian carefully.

\- Is everything okay? – the hero asked, approaching.

\- Okayer than it may seem, - Valerica muttered, looking down. Andrei stopped close to him. They both examined the battlefield.

\- Why aren’t you fighting for your people? – Andrei asked without a trace of mockery.

\- It’s pointless! – Valerica looked up at Cebotari helplessly. – What’s even going on, they aren’t going away or, I don’t know, staying down anyway?!

\- They aren’t, - Andrei echoed, not looking at Valerica. – But if you want them to die, my good man, Valerica – you can just play so.

\- Play? – Valerica narrowed his eyes, not understanding. – You outta your mind?

\- That’s the magic of the Almighty Trumpet, - Andrei said with a sad smile. – I think it’s time to tell you. When needed, you can play whatever you wish – the fear, the wind, the dark… the only three things you can’t play nobody except for… God can give: Life, Love and Happiness. Everything else is in your hands now. If you want them to die – just play them death.

Valerica glanced at Andrei, frowning.

\- And they all… will die?

\- Yes, - Andrei said firmly. – They will all die. And we should cover our ears and not listen, or we will die, too. Anybody who hears you will die.

Valerica looked down at the battlefield. Andrei took him by the elbow.

\- Stand on the drum. Here, behind me. Just hold on tight.

Valera nodded unsurely and stood on the drum, putting his hand unsurely on Andrei’s shoulder. It was quite weird, he was used to drive, to sit in the front, and now…

\- Hold on, - Andrei said firmly. – It’s for your people, we’d better hurry up. You’ll need great strength to play death, don’t waste the power flying. Let’s go.

And the drum slid down towards Roma, Sveatik, Vitea and Mihai.

Mihai was the first stop. He raised his head to the littlest motion of the air and flew up quickly.

\- What’s going on? – he exclaimed, glancing at Valerica. – I cannot do anything! I’m trying to use some more of the freakin’ power, or whatever this shit is, – and I can’t!

\- Valerka is going to put an end to this all, - Andrei said seriously. – Let’s go take Vitea, Roma and Slava, I’ll explain everything later.

Mihai nodded. But they didn’t have to go and take the others with them. As they all looked up and Andrei’s drum moved a centimeter forward, they saw the carpet jumper himself hurrying towards the others almost carrying the tireless ginger with him. He looked over his shoulder and waved – and Vitea flew up after them, a concerned look on his face.

\- What’s wrong? – Roma asked the very moment they were close enough for the guys to hear.

\- I can ask the same, - Andrei said, looking down, where the grey soldiers were all taking something out of the huge pockets on their coats.

\- We noticed we couldn’t change anything, - Roma stated. – The situation has been the same for something like two hours, what’s going on?

\- That’s the problem Valerica and Misha faced. And we all, let’s be honest, - Andrei said calmly. The first grey soldiers rose into the air, but Roma shouted out a spell – and a bright red circle from his carpets and out threw the enemies away. He looked at Andrei again, frowning:

\- Ha?

\- Yes, - Cebotari nodded. Valerica left his side quickly and looked at the guys a little ashamedly.

\- We can’t beat them, - he said. – You all see that. Andrei said that with the power of the trumpet I can play them anything I wish. Even… - he paused. – Even death… Sounds stupid, yeah. Everything is stupid.

\- What are we waiting for then?! – Sveatik exclaimed, shaking his head. Big flames ran through his hair. – Just play, man, and we’ll get rid of them motherfuckers!

\- Wait, - Roma put his hand on Ryjik’s shoulder. – Valer, and how about us? Are we to die, too, if you start playing that?

\- You can cover your ears, - Andrei answered for him. – As long as we don’t hear it, we can not die. Let’s go. To the stage, fellas. They’ll all follow us. Valera, don’t waste the power, use my drum.

All the six fellas headed towards the stage. Valerica was looking away all the way, not even holding on to Andrei’s shoulder. Roma was trying to catch his look, but he couldn’t. Something was wrong with Valerica Fara Frica.

Andrei’s drum moored to the edge of the stage softly and Andrei let Valerica step on the firm ground first. Then he himself left the drum and with a roll of his eyes sent it to the set. Valerica stopped in the front, looking hesitantly at his trumpet. Sveatik jumped onto the stage and tapped the young Martian’s shoulder.

\- I’m with ya, man, - he whispered. – Show’em, come on! Make them hide their asses now and forever…

\- Mhm… - Valerica managed, and Roma noticed how he didn’t want to say ‘yes’. Casting worried glances at his friend, he stopped closer to him than the others. He felt that if he didn’t support Valerica, nobody would do that for him.

Vitea wasn’t sure as well. He stopped in front of Valera, looked in his eyes – and said nothing. He just nodded to himself, looking away, and tapped Vlaerica’s shoulder before going past him towards his usual place on the stage.

The grey soldiers crowded under the stage, waiting for an order only they could hear. But the Mafia leaders were waiting for something. Andrei looked around.

\- So, Valera, - he said calmly, - Play. Only you, of us all, can kill them all. Go, work. It’s your battle.

But Valerica was hesitating.

\- Kill them?.. – he asked quietly, thoughtfully.

\- Yes. All of them. Now, - Andrei said firmly. – It’s your duty, Valerica. I should have told you earlier. I honestly don’t know what’s going on and why we can not beat them, but this seems to be the only way out now. They’re actually war machines, they could be easily modified, yet, honestly, I don’t know…

\- Machines? – Valerica echoed, looking at the unmoving army. – I know they were all people. I… I can’t kill them people, Andrei?

\- Yes, machines, - Andrei answered. – All human they once had is long gone. Make sure. Go on.

Valerica was silent for a moment. Then turned and looked at the guys. Sveatik nodded bravely, encouraging him with the flames.

\- Ucide! – he said proudly.

Roma bit his lower lip. Their stares met – two uncertainties. Valerica didn’t know what to do. Romashka either. Valerica’s chin moved slowly from side to side. No. Roma closed his eyes for a moment and shook his head in reply. No. No way. He couldn’t let Valerica play death.

Andrei was firm. He didn’t even look at Valerica, and the young Martian’s gaze moved towards Mihai. Mihai, whom they all could rely on. Always. And that Mihai he knew, he was staring in his eyes for a second or two, before looking away. That was the first time Mihai showed he didn’t know what to do. He was lost, as them all. Only the hero had some kind of a plan.

Vitea too avoided Valerica’s stare. The fellow was left to decide all by himself. He looked at the trumpet, then turned and examined the grey army, still standing motionlessly before the stage. For a moment or two he was thinking. Then brought the trumpet to his lips.

\- All cover your ears, - Andrei commanded.

But Valerica looked over his shoulder and smiled sadly.

\- No need to. I’m not going to play death.

\- You mad?! – Sveatik exclaimed, but Andrei raised his hand, stopping him.

\- Valera, - he said firmly, - you must.

\- I can not, - Valerica answered with a little shrug. – I mean, I know how now – but I won’t do that. I’m sorry, fellas. We have to try and wake their souls, we need new people over here. They can’t be fully machines, you can’t make one out of a man, right? I’ll play them… oh, you will hear what I’m going to play. You will feel, maybe I’d better say so. I never killed a man yet – and I won’t ever do that.

\- Valerica… - Andrei began, but the Martian wasn’t listening to him. He turned away and brought the shining Almighty Trumpet to his lips.

The sound rolled across the battlefield, where their fight had rather reminded dances. It grew, and suddenly Roma understood what Valerica was playing. Astonished, he looked at Mihai – and met his surprised stare. A peaceful smile shone on Vitea’s face. Even Ryjik raised his face to the skies as the melody not of human composition floated above the ground. Valerica was playing Beauty.

But suddenly the sea of the grey army rippled as something ran through it. The Mafia, losing control of its powers, tried its last chance. One soldier, trying to cover his ears, was running towards the stage. He stumbled and fell, but before the first notes of the melody reached his ears – he cast a spell. One of the dirtiest spells ever known. It was shaped as a dark ball, it was quite heavy – and it left the soldier’s lips and flew towards the young Martian. In a moment the soldier was standing up listening to the magical melody.

Sveatik was quick to react.

\- Valerica, watch out! – he cried as he rushed towards his friend and threw himself in front of him. The So Lucky Vitea ran towards them, and the only one word remained unsaid, not escaping his lips. The word ‘no’. The dark ball of the spell hit Sveatik’s chest.

The ginger arched back as the spell absorbed into him, ran through his veins, reaching through his fingertips. His eyes opened wide in some childish surprise as he froze in the air – all for barely a second, but it seemed to last forever. And then something broke, broke and sounded, harshly, like a ripped string. Sveatik’s unmoving body fell heavily to Valerica’s feet. He didn’t even gasp. The last flames turned blue on his orange hair – and fell. The glasses fell with a knock – and broke, in an inch from his hand. The ruin. The memory.

And it was over.

Romashka gasped and took a step towards his friends – but Andrei stopped him with his arm. Nobody could interrupt the melody, his fierce stare said. Roma listened – and the unbidden tears ran down his cheeks. The beauty of the world was running in front of his eyes – but his chest ached as if his heart had just been ripped out of it.

Valerica didn’t even open his eyes. All the strength he had was thrown to playing the beauty for the grey army. And the army was still, listening to him, watching him, as the strange music was flowing to the sky – and falling down to the ground, shattering at their feet.


	7. Se Traiesc

…It was quiet in the room. The early morning was still and nothing could break the silence. The young silver light was pouring through the windows, filling the room with coldness, giving everything a strange black and white impression.

There was nothing warm left in the little house. The lamp, which once shone soft yellow light, was switched off and reminded of a woman in mourning. The hardwood floor was cold. The furniture was too black. The bed on which a man was lying was way too white.

This young fellow was pale, or rather light grey. His eyes was shut, his lips closed, and his entire face had an expression of some childishly sincere sorrow. His eyebrows were so light they weren’t even visible, and that gave him especially touchingly vulnerable look. The shadows circling his eyes became deeper, the cheekbones – sharper, and only his ginger hair was burning bright, as usual, making a harsh contrast with his high open forehead.

Another guy was sleeping in the sitting position, his dark-haired head was resting on the ginger’s white hand. The fellow’s body was relaxed, but on his face grief was written, the grief worse than the words could express. The line between his eyebrows, the shadows of weariness under his eyes, something in slightly parted lips, in hands, dropped helplessly on his knees gave out that grief. He was asleep.

But there was another man in that room. And his eyes were open. He was sitting at the ginger’s feet, unmoving, only his chest was rising and falling slightly as he breathed. He was staring at the opposite wall and his eyes were red. He was done crying, he was done biting his fists – his both hands were all covered in half-circular red traces. He was done fighting it back. He was empty, he was left in ruins, without hope, without anything to hold on to but his own recklessness.

Romashka hadn’t slept that night. Closing his eyes for a second was enough to see Sveatik’s unmoving body on the stage again, making his heart ache, as if it was ripped in two. He felt he wouldn’t ever forget.

***

It all was so clear on the black screen on his eyelids. He remembered every single detail. Valera stopped playing, put the trumpet slowly down and, as the last sound dissolved, opened his eyes, glanced around – and collapsed to his knees, completely worn out, with a little ‘whoa!’ of his. He hadn’t seen anything. Vitea hurried towards him, worry written all over his face, and held the Martian in his arms. ‘This was excellent’, - he whispered, and it echoed in Roma’s ears as a thunder. Andrei limped towards them, sank heavily to his knees and looked at the fellas apologetically. ‘Valerica, - he said quietly, - if it will console you anyhow, I was just testing you. I knew you would never kill them. You made a right choice, my good man, Valerica. And… congratulations on that’. He sounded awkward and he felt it. Mihai knelt down beside them silently. All of his inner fight could be seen clearly in his black eyes.

Roma took a step forward, and another – and then he just jumped towards Sveatik and fell to his knees over his body. He grasped at his shoulders and shook him, and tapped his cheeks, trying to wake him up. ‘Slava! Slava, wake up, wake up, damn you, you Ryjik! Slava…’ But the ginger’s head dangled spinelessly from side to side. He didn’t open his eyes. Roma couldn’t even tell if he was breathing.

Vitea pushed Andrei and Mihai out of his way, hurried towards Sveatik and examined him quickly and carefully. Then he put his both hands on the ginger’s chest and closed his eyes tight. He inhaled and held his breath – and then suddenly gasped and recoiled from Sveatik’s unmoving body. ‘Oh my God’, - he whispered. ‘What? What’s there?’ – Roma grasped at Vitea’s hand, like a drowning man at a straw. ‘That’s what I feared the most, Romich’, - Vitea said quietly, pressing his hand to his chest as if it hurt. ‘I can do nothing at all here. Can’t even take up this spell – even my power can not overcome it. And… if I could die saving him – I would! But I can not do anything at all. It will be a miracle if he doesn’t leave us by tomorrow. I’m sorry, Romchik. We’re helpless.’

And he shrugged, looking him right in the eyes. It hurt him. Roma’s hands dropped onto his lap and his own pain overwhelmed him. Valerica by his side came to himself a little and the first thing he managed to say was: ‘What’s wrong? What’s with Slava? Fellas?’

But nobody said anything. Valerica rushed towards the ginger, but as he met Roma’s stare he stopped. ‘Is he?..’ – was all that he could manage. Then he burst out: ‘No… no, he couldn’t!..’ He rushed towards Sveatik, tried some first aid, as he was taught, as he was always ready to do, then pressed his ear to the ginger’s chest and Roma watched his always open, kind and lively face grow murderously, greenishly pale. He straightened slowly and Roma’s heart was wrung with pain twice as terrible as a mad smile appeared on the young Martian’s face. He couldn’t stand it any more. He rushed towards Valerica and pressed him to his breast. ‘Lerka, man, - he managed. – There’s no hope, no hope at all…’

And something broke inside the Martian’s broad chest – Roma could feel it. He laughed quietly, almost hysterically into Roma’s shoulder, reaching his arm around Roma to press his fist to his own eyes – he was crying. He was shaking scarily, as if something was ripping him from the inside. And Roma couldn’t hold his tears, too. He tried to hold it, tried hard – men don’t cry, he always remembered it, he was the strong one, he was… he was crying helplessly, grasping at Valerica.

He heard Mihai’s light steps – and then their friend’s arms embraced them both. Mihai was silent and his cheek pressed to Roma’s forehead was dry and hot. Romashka moaned quietly as he fell to Mihai’s side and sank down, letting go of everyone and biting at his both fists, shaking. He felt Vitea pat his back softly and choked on the sobs.

The only thing nobody of them did see. Andrei looked at the four friends clinging to each other in one grief for them all – and felt like he was odd in that family. He looked at the grey army that wasn’t grey any more – the people were throwing the coats off and smiling to each other, the beauty played by Valerica woke everything human they still had inside. He looked at ginger Sveatik, just an unmoving figure on the stage. And he felt strange painful void in his chest. He stood up and walked away slowly, unnoticed and unneeded.

***

The door creaked open and Vitea entered the room quietly. Roma glanced to his direction. Their eyes met for a second and Vitea sighed. He came up to Roma and sat down on the bed a little awkwardly. He looked up at Roma softly and finally dared to put his big warm paw on this friend’s shoulder.

\- Romchik? – he called kindly.

Roma looked down and sniffed. Vitea watched him with pain: the red eyes, the face, at least ten years older than it had to be…

\- You have to sleep, - he said quietly. – Romka, you have to.

Roma shrugged.

\- You shouldn’t kill yourself, no, you mustn’t, - Vitea insisted softly. – We need you. Have you seen Mihai? He hasn’t said a word since… well, since that happened. He just walks around, like a zombie, or stares at one spot. He needs you. Or, if nobody else, think of Valerica, - Vitea pointed his chin at the sleeping Martian, lowering his voice to the whisper. – He’s the youngest, and he trusts you so much. If not you – who will help him bear it? – he paused and swallowed hard, looking away. He was almost crying himself, but he had to be strong. – Or me – I honestly don’t know what to do with you all… it hurts even more to see you all so down, Rom. And Andrei…

\- What’s with Andrei? – Roma asked quietly, quite apathetically.

\- He’s walking around alone and wouldn’t even look at me, - Vitea said, examining his own knees. – He feels guilty for this all, God knows why.

Roma looked down.

\- It’s nobody’s fault, - he said. – Nobody of us is to blame.

\- That’s what I was trying to tell him, - Vitea sighed and quickly wiped the corners of his eyes.

They were sitting in silence for quite a while, then Vitea suddenly put his hand on Roma’s shoulder and looked in his eyes desperately.

\- Come on, Roma! You have to eat something. You have to sleep. You have to, I don’t know, try to talk to Mihai, or something. I can’t, I just can’t bear seeing you like this! Not just you – you all!

\- I’m sorry, - Roma said, looking away. – But I know that you understand me. Vitea, I’m sorry if I make it worse. I can’t help it. Ryjik…

He stopped. He didn’t have to say anything. Vitea sighed quietly and stood up.

\- Whatever, - he said. – Forget what I said, ‘twas… nothing. I understand…

And he went to sit down in the armchair, silent and thoughtful.

Roma didn’t know how much time had passed. Valerica started stirring, waking up, sighed and straightened. He looked around, at Vitea, at Roma, then his gaze stopped at Ryjik – and he seemingly remembered. He didn’t stand up, he just leaned his back onto the bed. Roma looked at him and sighed. Valerica was a sorry sight.

Some more time passed in silence. Nobody wanted to talk over Ryjik’s body. The ginger was still breathing, but so faintly that his chest barely moved. Mihai limped into the room, examined everybody silently and leaned his back onto the wall, not wanting to sit down.

After a few more long minutes of silence Andrei appeared at the doorway. Romashka heard his steps and glanced at him apathetically. Nobody else looked up. Andrei went in and looked around unsurely.

\- Fellas? – he managed hoarsely.

Nobody raised their heads. Andrei was standing there for a second or two, and then suddenly dropped to his knees.

\- Guys! – he exclaimed. – Look at me, guys! Please! I know, it’s my fault, I started it all, and I was too slow! It should have been me, man, it should have been me instead of him, I know! That would be a good end of my way, and nobody would seriously regret! Does anybody cry over the known ones? The real tears are cried over the one who went unnoticed by the world! It would be better if I were on his place!

Vitea stood up sharply.

\- Don’t you dare, - he said quietly and desperately. – Don’t you dare ever say so in my presence. What are you if you think so little of us?! You’re already a part of our family. It doesn’t matter for how long you’ve been here – we played together, we fought shoulder to shoulder – and you say that nobody would care if you died? If you wanna know, it should have been me. Do you even know what I’m thinking? If you just have to blame somebody – blame me! – he pointed his finger fiercely at his won chest, and then threw his arms to the sides – ‘here I am!’ – I’m an idiot, I became too soft and too relaxed. Married, grew a paunch and thought nothing could happen to me in this war that never stops. Wretched fool! – he clenched his fists and his lips trembled as he stepped forward. – My life can’t be taken from me. My heart can stop only when I die many-many years from now my natural death. If I hadn’t been such a fool for half my life – everybody would be alive and well now. The spell would either just fly by – or hit me and that would be equally good for everybody for nothing would happen. But you see what I’ve become…

While he was saying that all quietly and passionately, Valerica shook his head and stood up, came up to the table quietly, stood unmoving for a second – and then suddenly struck a blow on the table, stopping Vitea’s outpourings.

\- Shut up, you two, - he said hoarsely. – You both, just shut your mouths. You don’t know what you’re talking about. This all opera started over me and I am the one who should have been dead by now.

Everybody’s eyes turned to him. Valerica didn’t even raise his head. He was looking at the table, then banged his fist against it again – and unclenched his hand in quiet helpless despair. His head was declined on his chest, as if it became suddenly too heavy. Valera spoke again:

\- Nobody should have protected me. I said I was ready to die for my people – why did you doubt me? Why did Sveatik doubt me? I was ready. For the entire Basta Mafia – and for you. For the five of you, and I mean you, Andrei, too. I’m Martian anyway, we have slightly different structure, and slightly different reactions – who knows, maybe I’d still be able to play? I wouldn’t mind dying, honestly. I don’t want to live anyway now. We are all one. You know, when a man is blown to pieces, when a bomb explodes and just freakin’ rips him apart – he cannot live any more, am I right? It would be better if somebody caught Ryjik’s hand. Or if he didn’t notice. Or something. It should have been me instead of me.

\- Do you think we’d let you?

Roma’s voice was quiet, but it made Valerica stop, leaning onto the table.

\- Why do you think we’d let you die? – Roma asked quietly, rising.

Valerica didn’t say anything. Roma saw only his unmoving broad back, but Vitea noticed that he closed his eyes tight and bit his lower lip in pain. Roma caught Vitea’s look, but didn’t pay attention at him pointing at the young Martian.

\- Why do you all, fellas, think that blaming each one himself can console anybody? – he said almost fiercely. – It just hurts more, because no one of you is actually to blame. If you were blaming each other or feeling sorry for yourselves – that would hardly be worse than what we have now. Valerica, why do you think that we’d let you die? Our, I don’t know, littlest brother? Our heart of the group, little, like, lantern, that shines for us all? The guy whose smile can bring peace to, like, any soul? Do you think I would feel better if anything happened to you? Do you think I wouldn’t put my life to saving you?

Valera didn’t move. Romashka folded his arms and gazed at all the fellas. Mihai was watching him with something new in his black stare. Vitea pressed his fingers to his eyes.

\- If you all want to know, I don’t want to be without any one of you. Absolutely any one. You’re my brothers, even though we all have different surnames and different parents, and anyway we aren’t connected by anything but our friendship. But Valera was right about the man blown to pieces. We are one. A family. A big Zdubofamily.

Valerica’s shoulders shook. He raised his head and turned around to look at Roma – deep into his eyes. Roma closed his eyes tight for a second, fighting back the tears – and smiled at his friend despite a lump in his throat. Valerica’s eyes sparkled.

\- I was being honest all the way, - he said quietly. – I just know how much you love him.

And he smiled.

\- Thank you, frate, - Romashka said with a slight sad smile, coming up to him slowly and patting his back friendly. Valerica said ‘love’ and not ‘loved’, and that touched his heart. Even if it was a joke – Valerica believed, just like him. – But don’t you ever think I luv you a jot less, Valerica Fara Frica.

It sounded a little bit more serious than he expected. Valerica smiled. Despite everything, he was still radiating warmth. Roma squeezed his shoulder. Valera glanced up at him and threw another short smirk.

\- Rom, - Mihai suddenly called.

Roma turned to his friend.

\- Sing something, - Mihai said softly. – Okay?

Romashka ran his fingers through his hair.

\- Pff… Mish, I don’t think…

\- Please, - Mihai pleaded. – It will be easier when you sing. I don’t say you have to sing something like Tempo. But Doina would be good. Or anything you like. Some, I don’t know, songs from your childhood…

Roma sighed.

\- Well, if nobody minds…

He sat down on the bed and looked at Sveatik’s face. He looked so childishly sad – and so lonely wise at once. Roma sighed and took a deep breath, closing his eyes. He sang quietly and the soft melody sent shivers down the guys’ spines. Andrei leaned onto the table silently and closed his eyes. Vitea stared out of the window, mouthing the words silently. Mihai’s black dry eyes watched Romashka as he sang, and something was in them that couldn’t be shaped in any words in the world. Valera came up to Roma and put his hand on his shoulder. He joined in the singing on the refrain, and even though he wasn’t the best singer, this time his voice sounded good together with his friend’s – it was soft, although quite high. On the second refrain all the guys joined in – quieter or louder. They led the song to its end all together – and then, not saying a single word, they all left the room. Andrei was the first, Vitea hurried to follow him, whispering something to the hero as he reached him – and they left together. Valerica tapped Roma’s shoulder and, before going out, exchanged glances with Mihai. Misha sighed and, as Valera walked past him, he turned, put his arm around the Martian’s shoulders – and they left, leaving Roma alone with Sveatik. Roma watched their backs as they all walked out, until Mihai closed the door quietly behind his back. Only then he seemingly woke up from that strange trance – or maybe just from the music.

He moved a little up, towards Sveatik’s head, taking his pale wiry hand in his both on the way, and looked carefully at the ginger’s face. Without his glasses Sveatik was different. He would only play on the stage without glasses, but now he was lying in bed, motionless – and without glasses, and without his ‘rocker-face’, and Roma examined him in surprise, because this Ryjik was new for him. His glasses gave a feeling of the eyebrows over his eyes, while without them in this dim silver light it seemed that Sveatik had none, and the only slight lines of the bone he had instead gave his face that look of childish sincere sadness. His lips – lower one shot out, which always gave his face that adorable self-consciousness he liked to play, - turned out to have corners slightly turning down, and this Sveatik, not talking and not smiling, silent, without his glasses – this new, unfamiliar Sveatik turned out to be unexpectedly vulnerable and lonely.

Roma felt the lump curl up in his throat and swallowed hard. He squeezed Sveatik’s hand – that wiry hand, that genial hand – and it was so weak, though in his springy fingers he could still feel that strength that was once in the ginger’s entire body.

\- Slava, - he called quietly, knowing that his friend won’t answer – and still so stupidly hoping. The unfamiliar Sveatik was silent. Roma looked at his face with some strange feeling and went on softly: - Ryjik… I know that you’re not dead. I know and I will never believe that you ever will be. People like you – they don’t die. Well, not like this.

The words sounded ridiculous. Roma choked a gasp and pressed Sveatik’s cold hand to his own hot forehead and shut his eyes.

\- Ryjik, - he whispered. – Please, Ryjik. Promise me I’ll see your goddamn smirk once again – just once in my life, but for real! Promise me I’ll have another chance to make you angry and make you laugh with that anger, you hear me?! Promise me, man, that I’ll see you burn once again and that we will poke each other with that ‘don’t burn down the stage’ and ‘my carpet’! Just let me – let me see you alive, and I’ll choke you, I’ll hug the hell outta you, you’ll know how it hurts!!!

He took a deep breath and, nuzzling at his opened palm with his forehead, like a faithful dog, managed quietly:

\- I know you aren’t dead. So no need to lie here like this. No Sveatoslav Staruş would lie in bed with such a face. Wake up and come to me, while I still believe. While Valerica still believes. While we all still believe.

He sat silent for a moment more. Then let go of Sveatik’s hand, stood up and walked out quickly.

***

Sveatik’s mind flashed, exploded, then shrank back again into his skull – and stayed there, pumping with sudden shining pain. He tried to restore the empty and calm warm darkness, to make it quiet – but didn’t succeed. The feeling was slowly gaining shape – and, much to his surprise, it was shaped in sound! The song was strangely familiar, it was tugging at his heart strings – and he couldn’t understand why he suddenly felt so unexpectedly cold. But with the cold came consciousness – and, though slowly, Sveatik recognized the melody. And the very moment he understood, he felt a pumping heart inside his chest – his own heart.

Doina Haiducului. The Doina. And the voice singing it was one of the dearest voices Sveatik knew. Whose?

The answer came suddenly. Romashka’s. That was Romashka. Who was Romashka? He knew, yes, he did. Sveatik started tossing fiercely, trying to free himself from something that felt like a big cocoon – and, as he recognized in order all the other voices joining Romashka for the refrain, he finally ripped it. And finally managed to open his eyes – wide, wide, sharply, sitting up and panting, not feeling cold and apathetic any more, but hot, hot and sweaty – and scared.

\- Romka!

He looked around, shaking.

\- Oh, look, Lifey! – an unfamiliar voice said joyfully. – He woke up!

Sveatik was in his own room, but it was all black and white for some reason, like in an old film, and a few funeral bouquets were lying beside the bed – his bed he was sitting on. But the most interesting thing was a skinny little old lady, who appeared out of thin air as soon as Sveatik focused on that spot. She wasn’t black and white, unlike the picture, but she was wearing a long black dress and an old-fashioned black cap. Her little cunning eyes were shining with genuine interest as she was examining Sveatik as if he was some kind of a rare animal.

\- The fuck?.. - Slava managed hoarsely, and cleared his throat quickly.

The little lady laughed in a thin tone, her tiny eyes hid completely in the wrinkles on her not at all beautiful, but pleasant face; and she covered her mouth with her little bony hand, like a schoolgirl.

\- Oh how rude! What a bad boy!

Sveatik opened his mouth to say something, but immediately forgot what he was gonna say when another lady appeared on the other side of the bed. She was quite slightly plumper and younger that the first one, and her dress was knitted and striped in bright colours.

\- Don’t confuse the young man, Dee, dearie! – she said in a ringing voice. – By the way, look, one thread is mine!

The lady in black jumped to her knees on the springy bed of Sveatik’s and leaned over his legs to check. Then she giggled delightedly, as a little girl, and remarked:

\- But that’s only one, my dear! We still have four more to go!

Sveatik looked at the bright lady’s hands and saw that five long threads of woollen yarn were drawn between her fingers, four of them black and the last one bright orange. Meantime the black lady seemingly lost all the interest in the threads and leaned back against the wall, putting her bony legs shamelessly on Sveatik. The ginger frowned, but said nothing, just tucked his legs under himself and asked a little sharply:

\- Let’s sort it out. I’m dying and you’re my hallucinations.

Both ladies giggled.

\- We’ve been called those, - the bright one remarked. – I can pinch you, if you wish.

Sveatik sniffed and muttered something dirty under his breath. The dark lady giggled again.

\- I still think this bad boy will be mine! – she reached out and slapped Sveatik’s thigh playfully.

\- Get off! – the ginger flinched away. – I don’t wanna play your fuckin’ games! If you’re some kind of Mafia’s bitches, just say so!

The bright lady pursed her lips, offended, but the black one tilted her head with the same smile.

\- What Mafia bitches? – she asked innocently. – Let’s sort it out, my boy, okay? Do you see the shining tunnel anywhere near?

Sveatik gave her the look. She nodded.

\- Very well. And your thigh must still feel it, ha? I’ve always been good!

Sveatik scratched his still tingling leg and bit back a curse. After all, they were just elderly ladies and he should have been a little bit more respectful.

\- Very good. So the question if we are the hallucinations is answered, I believe?

Sveatik licked his teeth, annoyed.

\- The next thing. We’re neither the Mafia’s, nor as you said, - the bright lady made her presence known, already smiling again. – But yeah, we do exist and you are dying.

\- Technically, he isn’t, - the dark lady dropped, admiring her tiny shiny shoes. – He’s in between. I wonder why they still haven’t invented a name for this place… but, anyway, welcome to in between, Sveatoslav!

Sveatik frowned.

\- What the…

He stood up and took a few steps away and back again, then took a deep breath and pointed his finger at the ladies, moving his stare from one to the other.

\- So wait, what the heck do you say?! What in between? Afterlife or some shit? I just… - he ran his fingers through his light ginger hair, - HOW?!

The dark lady tilted her head again.

\- Basically, after the spell, - she raised her eyes on Sveatik. – What do you remember?

He frowned and straightened.

\- I remember the Army… the attack. And how we fought and couldn’t kill anybody, and we ourselves didn’t get hurt… then, Valerica started playing, and then…

He knitted his light eyebrows harder.

\- Oh yeah, the spell…

\- Good, you remembered, - the bright lady gave him a shiny smile. – Oh, look, Dee…

The dark one was immediately by her, staring at the threads.

\- Wha-at, - she drawled in a second. – None changed!

\- Oh, it seemed to me, I guess… - the bright lady said apologetically.

\- What in the world are these threads? – Sveatik inquired, putting his knee on the bed and leaning forward to see better.

The lady in black looked at the ceiling and lazily drawled:

\- You tell him, Lifey, dear!

The woman in bright smiled widely at Sveatik.

\- Well, it’s a king of a bet, you know. Rather like a game. Probably the only game we can entertain ourselves with in our long, long time.

\- Not really that, - the black one remarked in the same lazy tone. – It’s rather the only game that hasn’t yet bored us. It’s so unpredictable! And those little fellas are unimaginably interesting! Right, Lifey?

Sveatik frowned.

\- What kind of name is ‘Lifey’? – he inquired. – Who are you, at all?

The lady in bright gasped and laughed loudly.

\- Oh my gosh, my sister just calls me that all the time! Ridiculous, eh? I can’t stand our names, so I call her simply Dee!

\- Don’t you say anything about our names, - the old girl in black smirked. – They’re excellent, Lifey! I just enjoy calling you this one because you’re pretty. Nice to meet you, young man – I am Death, she is Life. Wouldn’t imagine we live here in between, ha? Nice room you have there, by the way!

They both held their hands out for handshakes, but Sveatik just backed off a little, quite stunned. Death snorted, reached out and took his hand herself, shaking it energetically. She then passed it to Life and they both giggled, quite satisfied.

\- What are you standing here like this for? – Death snorted again. – Who did you expect to meet, hit with a deadly spell – rabbits in jackets?

Life laughed loudly, falling onto the bed. Sveatik locked his fingers tensely.

\- So, if I understand right, I’m about to die now, or what? Or is that bet for my life?

\- Wait, wait, too many questions! – Death waved her hands at Sveatik. – Don’t start again.

Life looked at him sympathetically.

\- You know, - she said, - I’ll be honest – the spell was deadly and it hit you right it the heart. But! – she raised her index finger, seeing Sveatik’s eyes. – You still haven’t died, which is quite strange, so we decided to play our game over you. First of all, I have to say, nobody knows when and how one would die, and neither of us can change that. Nobody can, except for Him, Who’s over us. But we ourselves can bet and see.

\- Watching human lives is like watching a good soap opera, - Death remarked dreamily. – So much drama, and you never know where the plot turns next time!

Life sniffed.

\- Oh, don’t listen to her! She’s so cynical sometimes! You can forgive her – she’s Death, her nerves are strong, it’s me who’s expected to be sentimental here, but inside she’s kind.

Death shook her head and straightened, turning away. Life caught her shoulders, then tickled her and they both were playing on the bed for a few seconds, then both straightened, quite confused.

\- You know, - Life said quickly, - I can explain the rules of our game. Sometimes, a human life stays here, in between. Like you now. Then, if we think it’s worth a bet, we bet. One of us, who thinks she has better chances in this case – or worse, if she wishes, it’s interesting either way – takes as many threads from the other’s dress as there are threads connecting a person with their life. They’re all actually in that person’s hands, and ours only represent those. When a person uses a thread, it becomes – or stays – mine. When they don’t – it becomes or stays Dee’s. If the person stays alive – I take them all and they make another stripe in my dress. If they die – Dee takes the threads. She’s more careful, her threads are thinner and she arranges them beautifully. Don’t care they’re woollen here in my hands – they always turn so whenever I take them. As you see, our dresses are about equally long, so no one of us has any advantages over the other one!

\- I actually didn’t see any chances for you when she suggested a bet, - Death informed, playing with the ribbons of her cap. – But she found five, as you may see, and one of them is already hers!

\- Five threads… - Sveatik frowned. – Fellas? No, really, are those fellas from the band? – he almost jumped to the bed. – Romka, Valerica, Vitea, Mihai… Andrei? Are they…?

\- Well, yes, - Death replied, taking off her cap and adjusting something. – They’re your ‘fellas’, and they’re quite quick, I have to admit. But your destiny isn’t yet decided. Don’t be in a hurry.

\- And… are they going to bury me now?! – Sveatik sat down slowly and pressed his fists to his cheeks, knitting his eyebrows. What if his body would rot under the ground? What if he won’t be able to return? Fuckety fuck, what would happen to Romka! What would happen to Valerica! What would happen to all the five fellas he almost left!

Life patted his head soothingly, leaving the threads in the other hand for a moment.

\- They don’t want to bury you. They know you’re still alive, - she said kindly. – Do you know who made the first step?

\- Who? – Sveatik turned his head to her.

\- Your friend Romashka, - Death said with a slight smile.

\- Romka! – Sveatik smiled widely. – Damn, my good man, I knew he wouldn’t leave me! You go, you long-toothed thing! – he bumped the air with his fist victoriously.

\- They all have threads, - Death reminded. – You still have four more to go, as they all hold some pieces of your heart!

\- They’re all my family, - Sveatik said sincerely. – You bet they do. And, sooner or later, each of them will pull.

\- Lifey bets they do, - Death smirked, tying the ribbons of her cap under her chin. – I actually bet they don’t. They have only twenty-four hours, that’s the duration of our bet.

\- They’ll all do it, - Sveatik said confidently.

Life smiled softly.

\- I’m glad, - she said. – I rarely meet people sharing such a strong bond as you and your, as you call them, fellas. People who love each other so, that friends become a real family, are rare in this world. If I win – I’ll make you promise you’ll always be grateful and faithful.

\- You don’t have to, - Sveatik said, and smirked with a corner of his lips, as he always did. – I will anyway.

***

Roma found all the guys by the little river that flowed right through the fortress. It was artificial, it took efforts of all the Basta-Mafian men to dig the canal from Bîc river, but now it was theirs, and their fortress stood on it like City C stood on Bîc. The village inside the old fortress was like mini-City C, and that’s why it was especially dear to them all.

The four were sitting on the railing of the stairway down to the river, silent, each one on his height. Roma passed down by Mihai, Vitea, Andrei, Valerica and didn’t stop to sit down on the railing himself. He stopped by the river and looked at the line of the horizon far away – it was such an unusual and beautiful view, but alas!

\- Rom? – Valerica called wearily. – Rom, you okay?

He didn’t have to ask. He new nobody of them was ‘okay’, he himself wasn’t ‘okay’. Roma just sighed. His boyish bony shoulders drooped helplessly.

\- Not really, to be honest, Valer…

Valerica slid off the railing and wanted to come up to Romashka, but hesitated and just sat down on the stairs, embracing his one knee with his both arms.

\- Don’t sit there, - Vitea remarked fatherly.

\- They’re warm, - Valerica dropped, putting his dimpled chin on his knee, his stare wandering somewhere at the ruined fortified wall.

There was a short silence. Finally Valerica raise his head a little.

\- Man, I can’t believe it. How much effort you all put into rebuilding this wall, and how much more we will all have to put into rebuilding it now…

\- We’ll probably have to leave now, - Mihai replied darkly, sliding down the railing towards Valerica. – It’s too dangerous to stay in the fortress now. The Mafia now knows where we are. Anybody can find us now. The rebuilding will take too much time and attract too much attention. And this one was the only fortress near City C. We’ll have to go far …

He almost choked and suddenly turned upside down, holding on to the railing with his hands. In a moment he was sitting upright again. He shook his head, throwing springy dark curls out of his face, and sniffed.

\- Where are you gonna even go?.. - Andrei made his presence known.

\- We? – Vitea raised his head sharply. – And where are you going, I ask you?

Andrei sighed quietly.

\- I’m sorry to leave you so soon, - he said apologetically, - and in such a time… but I told you that. I knew I would have to leave. I’m a hero first of all, fellas. I can’t decide. I got a note from Rom… I knew that the Mafia won’t stop on their way there. Now I need to help a little gang to become an army to protect Rom. If we protect Rom – Rom will protect us.

\- Rom won’t protect us a shit, - Mihai said angrily. – Nobody will, if you leave. We’ll be completely fucking helpless. Vulnerable from all sides. Alone wandering fuck knows where. And you will be away protecting overprotected Rom. Good luck!

And he turned around the railing again.

\- Oh be quiet, - Vitea looked at Mihai pleadingly. – Don’t blame him for what’s not his choice.

\- There’s always the choice, - Mihai snapped.

\- He’s a hero, - Vitea said softly. – If he doesn’t go to Rom – then… do you want yet another country in the Mafia’s hands? The neighbouring country. The much bigger country. Misha, be sensible.

\- I’m the sensible one here, - Mihai said, this time quieter, and sniffed. – I just don’t know where we can get our asses to. To City S? It’s far. And we don’t know where we’re gonna stay, even if we reach City S – if, not when. If…

\- City S is my hometown, - Andrei dared. – There’s a big fortress there, too…

\- I don’t wanna leave, - Valerica said quietly.

Romashka turned to his friends, clenching his fists in front of his chest.

\- Fellas!

Everybody turned and looked at him. Roma opened his mouth – and choked on the words. He didn’t know what he wanted to say. Did he want to stop them from talking practical topics and further survival? Did he want them to cry over Sveatik? Did he want their hearts to hurt like his? They were all surely broken. As painfully as he was. He didn’t know what he was going to say. They were just all… so into themselves! So into the destinies of the Basta Mafia! And they were even starting a fight over Andrei. They had seemingly forgotten about Sveatik, who was lying there on the white-white bed, alone, without his glasses, so childishly sad and so wise.

\- I know what you’re gonna say, - Valerica said, resting his head on his knee again. – And don’t say that. Romka, Sveatik’s a friend of ours, not only of yours. We’re a team, after all. He’s our brother, he’s such a great man, words can not express what of a fellow Slava is! But there’s too much pain at once, man. And we’re trying to solve the problems that appeared to forget about what hurts… oh God, - he pressed his forehead to his knee this time, hiding his face. – Oh God, I’m an idiot. I shouldn’t talk at all…

\- Don’t worry, - Mihai sighed. – Sorry, Andrei… I… I’m just not feeling good…

\- It’s okay, me neither, - Andrei replied with a weak smile. – Sveatik was a great fellow, I’ll miss him.

\- Is.

\- What? – Roma turned to Valerica as he said that little word quietly.

\- He’s not ‘was’, - Valera explained simply. – He is. Don’t bury him before time, fellas. He is still alive.

\- It’s just a question of time, - Mihai said sharply and squeezed the bridge of his nose with his fingers.

\- Why so pessimistic? – Valerica raised his head and looked at all the fellas in order. – Don’t you have enough pessimism around now? We have our brother at the point of death, we have our home ruined and our peace lost, we have our future in darkness – and you still dare be pessimistic?

\- But, being honest with ourselves – what can we do? – Andrei threw into the air, looking up at the sky.

\- I don’t know, - Valerica said, glancing up at Roma. – But I have a strong feeling that everything is gonna be okay. I’m calm now. Yes, I’m sad, but there’s no fear. No worry. I lost the best thing. But some part of me knows that everything is gonna be okay.

Roma smiled softly and knelt down a stair lower than Valerica.

\- Thank you, - he said with a little smile. – I appreciate that. But admit it, you’re saying this just for me.

\- I’m saying this for the six of us, - Valera answered seriously. – For the six of us and for the Basta Mafia. For Nicu and Maria. For Bunica and Bunelul. For my good friend Radu, for our director Igor and a lot of other good friends of mine. For all the folks we know, for everybody in Casa Mare. I can repeat it a thousand times, because I’m sure about it. I can bet. I can vow. I know.

Mihai hemmed sarcastically, though his eyes were red. Vitea examined Valerica and remarked:

\- But, all in all, we have to admit Valerica does have something special. If he feels evil – why can’t he feel good coming as well?

Romashka smiled wider, holding back more unbidden tears.

\- I believe you, Lerka, - he said quietly. – Whatever people say – I don’t know why, but I believe you. May everything be okay.

Valerica smiled back and nodded.

***

Sveatik was searching everywhere for his glasses, but he couldn’t find them. In the world where Life and her sister Death were having their innocent bets his eyesight seemed ideal, but without that usual slight pressure on the bridge of his nose he felt a little uncomfortable. But the glasses weren’t anywhere in the room. He was distracted when he suddenly heard Life’s ringing laughter.

\- Look, Dee! Another one! Another one is turning mine!

\- He-ey, I didn’t know that counted! – Death raised her eyebrows slightly.

\- It’s not our choice, dearie, - Life reminded and leaned over her threads with genuine interest. – Hey, I like this little Martian one. He’s so nice-looking…

\- Martian! – Sveatik jumped to his feet. – Valerica Fara Frica? Was that him who pulled the thread?

\- Yep! – Life turned to him smiling from ear to ear. – Come look!

\- He can’t see what we see, - Death reminded.

\- Oh! – Life’s smile fell and she raised her eyebrows. – But anyway, I can tell him. Your Martian friend talks about you in present, instead of the past. And corrects the others. He ‘has the feeling that everything will be okay’.

\- Lerka… - Sveatik smiled and looked away, something especially warm appearing in his eyes. – If you only saw this man smile in the good times! He can disarm millions with a single smile, I swear!

\- Well, but it didn’t help him in this war, - Death dropped thoughtfully. – By the way, why do you want so to live, anyway? Do you know what kind of times are waiting for you back there on Earth?

\- Bad times. Terrible times, - Sveatik shrugged. – So what? I know all that perfectly well.

\- But you don’t know the details, - Death said, playing with the black beads on her dress. – Look, - she looked up at him seriously. – You will have to leave your that ‘Basta Mafia’ anyway because you will be too vulnerable there. You don’t know where you’re going to go. Probably to City S, where Andrei was born, there’s a fortress there, but it’s far away. The Mafia is going towards Rom, so Andrei has to leave – he’s got a note from Rom asking him for help. All those little weak people would go across the endless emptiness, and they don’t even know if they will reach the destination. And even if they do – what would they do then?

Sveatik bit his lower lip.

\- I don’t care, - he said in a moment, looking up bravely. – I’m going to them, to be with them. They need me. And the Mafia… I’ll start my own army. Let me just come back to life – and I will! And the Mafia will leave.

\- You still aren’t with me, - Life reminded softly. – Don’t make plans, don’t hurt yourself.

\- I believe in them as they believe in me, - Sveatik said with pressure. – And I will survive. If Valerica has a feeling that everything will be okay – everything will.

\- And why are you so sure it will be okay with you? – Death inquired, squinting.

\- Simple as that, - Sveatik smirked self-consciously, - ask any one of the guys – things just cannot be okay without me!

***

They sat in silence for a little time, when Vitea suddenly raised his head.

\- I have a plan.

\- What plan? – Andrei asked weakly in a minute, seeing that nobody was eager to hear and trying to help his friend as he could.

\- We don’t have to leave home, - Vitea said with a wide smile. His eyes were shining.

Everybody turned to him.

\- What do you mean? – Mihai frowned.

\- That’s what they expect from us, - Vitea explained with a smile. – Look, the best thing we can do to be protected is be unpredictable. If we stay here, we will make them confused. We’ll make everybody confused! The Mafia won’t know what to do with us, and everything that a man doesn’t know he fears. We just turned – how many? – into allies, simply made them ours back again, we have a plenty more people and magic powers… so – see my point here?

\- They’ll fear you, ahha, - Andrei sniffed. – The problem is, they can attack the second time. Think about it.

Vitea opened his mouth to defend his theory.

\- We’ll be gaining more power, - Romashka said, not knowing why.

Vitea smiled widely as he pointed his finger at him.

\- He’s right! That’s what I was about to say!

\- How’d you know? – Valerica looked at him, not understanding.

\- Because if you have the power and you practice, you have more every single time, - Vitea explained, smiling. He glanced questioningly at Romashka, hesitating for just a second, but Romashka nodded. – See, we have some good news! We can stay here and rehearse, rehearse, rehearse. And in pauses help building the walls. No matter that we’ll wear out, we’ll have a good sleep later, when everything is peaceful.

\- There’s something good in what he says, - Andrei said thoughtfully. – And, besides good, something very clever. Maybe we could use this simple thought… Mihai?

Mihai sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. Then, ready to say something, he slapped his own hips – and stopped with his mouth opened.

\- What? – Romashka inquired, a slight smile appearing on his lips without his will.

Mihai raised his eyebrows. He reached in his pocket – and his face became even funnier.

\- What’s there? – Valerica almost jumped up.

\- I forgot, guys, - Mihai said quietly. – I completely forgot…

He fished something out of his pocket and looked at it. Then showed it to the others on the opened palms.

Those were Sveatik’s glasses. Broken in two on the bridge, one side hanging loosely, a long crack parting one lens. Romashka’s smile fell. He stood up unsurely and reached his hand for them. Mihai let him take the glasses carefully and sighed.

\- I found them on the stage, - he said quietly. – Like this, broken, when we already carried him away. I was just wandering around the stage. And, don’t know why, I took them. I don’t know, first I had a crazy idea to fix’em. Don’t know how, I’m not a genius at fixing glasses… if only with the duct tape…

He smiled apologetically. Valerica grinned back at him.

\- Duct tape is our everything, man, don’t you worry! – he turned away and seemingly wiped the smile off his lips. – Oh, I just don’t know what Sveatik’s gonna do with these… Well, at least the lenses aren’t shattered… only that crack…

Roma sighed and returned the broken glasses to Mihai.

\- You should definitely fix’em, - he said.

\- I know, - Mihai said simply. – Let us just finish this little conference – and I’m going to do that. Damn, how ridiculous it will be…

He ran his fingers through his thick dark curls.

\- Don’t be afraid to look ridiculous, - Andrei smiled and came up to him, sitting down on the railing beside him and putting his arm around his shoulders. – The stupidest things made out of love become wise, Misha.

\- Love… you’re overusing the word ‘love’ today, - Mihai sniffed. – You and Valera.

\- We’re not afraid to tell you the truth, - Valerica smiled. – But if you insist… I friend you, Mish.

Mihai laughed quietly and sadly.

\- I friend you too, - he said in a second. A little bit too seriously.

***

\- He-ey, that’s too quick! – Death jumped to her feet, clanking her little heels on the floor, and stomped, like a little angry girl.

\- Oh God, Dee! – Life stood up and put her hands on her sister’s shoulders. – Dee, come on! It’s not your first bet, and it’s sure not your last!

Death sniffed.

\- Why are they so quick? – she asked naughtily. – None of the people were so quick before! They always did everything at the last moment, like in a movie!

Life tilted her head to the side.

\- Dee…

Death sighed and brushed her hands away.

\- What’s there? – Sveatik asked tensely.

\- You don’t have to leave the Basta Mafia any more, - Life explained. – That curly one had an idea… what’s his name, again?

\- Mihai?

\- No. Vitea, - Death scratched her temple. – You know, a good idea, I must say. I won’t have to stand up from my place another time. Could have a nap…

\- So nobody will die? – Sveatik asked in hope.

\- Some kinda, - Death dropped. – At least now it seems so. I don’t decide here, mind you. I just go and take when I have to go and take. But your that Vitea said that the Basta Mafians won’t leave because that would make them unpredictable. Oh, and, by the way, Mihai has just pulled his thread.

\- What does he have? – Sveatik’s eyes sparkled.

\- Your glasses, - Life answered simply. – He found them on the stage, broken in two. And he actually wants to fix them with the duct tape. Nobody laughed, if you were interested.

\- They became boring, - Death pouted.

Sveatik sat down slowly to the edge of his bed and ran his fingers through his hair. He didn’t know why that moved him so much. It was just that Mihai’s face flashed in front of his eyes suddenly – all the confusion and embarrassment were burning in his black eyes, and oh his red cheeks, and on his burning ears. He found his glasses. He took them. And then he decided to fix them – however he could. To fix. And then – then – he told the guys that he was gonna fix them, and how he was gonna fix them. And nobody laughed. Because all they had to fix the glasses was duct tape. All they had to fix Sveatik was their love – bond – and hope. And nothing more. Sveatik pressed his fingers to the inner corners of his wet eyes.

\- What? – Life asked softly, freeing her hand from the threads and patting his back.

\- Noth’n, - Sveatik managed, swallowing the ending. – Man, I was just looking for them and…

He sniffed and turned away.

Life put her arm around his shoulders.

\- Slava, don’t cry, please, don’t, - she asked quietly. – We have three threads and Dee has only two more to go.

\- Your chances are equal anyway, - Slava answered, rubbing his eyes. His voice was trembling. – Here the turns can be sharp and unexpected. Like when Valera took me for rides. And I’m not thinking of this at all anyway. It’s just that… damn, Misha!

He wiped his face with his palms.

\- I’m okay, - he said in a second. – I’m okay. Keep watching the guys.

\- We never stop, - Death informed with a slight smile. – And don’t you worry anyway – He Who’s over us won’t miss another thread pulled.

And in that moment it seemed she didn’t really want to win the bet.

***

They’d been sitting in silence for quite a while when a short plump young man came running down the stairs. Valerica rose towards him. That was Radu, one of his good friends outside the group, which Valerica had many. But he seemed to enjoy Radu’s company the most, and when the guys were each one into his own stuff, he would hang out with him a lot.

\- Lera! – he called with his rich deep voice. – Lerik, want some good news?

The funny thing about Radu was that he had girlish looks, short legs and a plump frame, but when he spoke one could easily imagine a classic Hollywood star or a muscular Superman from old bright comics. He always called Valera ‘Lerik’ and just adored him.

\- Good news are always wanted, and especially I wouldn’t say ‘no’ to some now, - Valerica muttered, coming up to Radu. Something like hope shone in his eyes.

\- Do you know that the Grey Army has just come to Bunica and Bunelul in all entirety and asked if they could join?

\- Join what? – Valerica frowned, a little bit lost.

\- The Basta Mafia, of course! – Radu sounded.

\- That’s what I said, - Vitea remarked.

\- Yeah… and there are many good people from the city. Do you know whom I met?

\- Whom?

\- The guys from Gîndul Mâţei! – Radu said proudly.

Valerica gasped.

\- From Gîndul Mâţei?! My old mates?

Radu nodded knowingly.

\- And my older brother. And a lot of fellas you told me about – I heard them say their names. Come on, you have to see that!

Valerica was ready to run, but hesitated. He looked around at the guys. They all were gazing at him softly – they noticed his old smile appear in the corners of his lips. Then he turned to Radu. The bumpkin was standing there waiting. Valera sighed and his smile fell. Mihai was still holding the broken glasses in his hand. The aching void in the young Martian’s chest that had seemingly disappeared a second ago was still there. Valera looked at Radu and smiled again – apologetically.

\- I’m sorry, Radu, man, - he said quietly. – You don’t know what I feel now… tell the guys I’m here, but don’t let anybody look for me, okay?

\- So you aren’t going? – Radu asked, quite disappointed.

Valerica shook his head.

\- No. But thanks for the good news, anyway. I hope we get more soon. Thank you.

\- As you wish, - Radu threw over his shoulder, turning away. Then he sighed and hurried, panting, up the stairs.

Mihai waited until his round frame disappeared somewhere and looked at Valerica.

\- You should know that nobody’s forcing you to stay here, - he said in a strange voice.

Valera frowned and looked at him, confused.

\- Nobody is, - he said half-questioningly, sitting back down onto the warm stairs.

\- If you want to go – then go, - Mihai said with a slight pressure, staring piercingly into Valerica’s clear green eyes. Something new was in Mihai’s black stare, his fingers squeezed the railing so tight they grew white. – It’s not like – the more people the better. Nobody feels better if you force yourself to stay here. You’re not obliged to. If you want to forget – forget. Everybody will understand. Get drunk, I don’t know, dance on the table, sleep all day – whatever the fuck you wish. Just do me a favour – please, don’t stay here just to stay. Be a man, man.

Valerica raised his eyebrows, opened his mouth – and closed it again and took a deep breath.

\- Why… why’re you saying that? – he asked, and poorly hidden indignation sounded in his voice. – Do you really – I mean, really-really think I’m staying here with you just to show you: ‘Oh look, fellas, it hurts, it hurts so much, oh!’ – he showed that all in a theatrical tone and then slapped his own hips and sniffed. – What for would I show off? You know what? I’d be glad if literally nobody knew about my feelings. I’m not a little boy, Misha, can you imagine?! But I have you. You all. And we’re all equally hurt. If it so happened and we share a grief – why don’t we just share? Or are you trying to keep it all to yourself and not give us a single piece? Fine! I’d be glad to leave it all to you, only wanna know what? I can’t!

He sniffed and leaned back onto the railing, looking at the horizon, lips thinned, a line between his eyebrows.

Mihai sighed and looked down.

\- Man, – he called in a moment. – I’m sorry, Valer. Forgive me. Shit, I didn’t mean to say you’re showing off… it’s just… I know how it hurts. We all knows. So if you wanna…

\- I don’t, - Valera snapped.

\- If you don’t – don’t, - Mihai said soothingly. – I’m sorry.

Valerica raised his hand, not looking at Mihai.

\- We’re all… not okay here, - he said firmly. – And you don’t seem to be good at words, especially when… something happens. Don’t. Just let’s all shut up.

But Roma stared at Mihai. Then he looked at Valerica and sighed.

\- He’s not ‘not good’ at words, - he said quietly. – He’s just not used to sharing such deep stuff with us. If you want me to leave – I’ll leave, Mish. You just say so.

Mihai looked softly in Roma’s eyes. Romashka was his older friend, and his best friend, and his first bandmate.

\- Why make you all leave if I just can stand up and go? – he said, looking down again. – I’ll go fix Slava’s glasses, if you don’t mind. You’re right, Rom. I’m really not used. It’s, like… the first big grief… the first big anything I have to share with such a big company.

Roma smiled slightly.

\- Fix those for Slavik. I hope you feel just a little better. Focus on what you’ll be doing, okay? I know it’s easy to say – but just try not to think about…all this.

\- I’ll listen to music, - Mihai said, sliding off the railing. Andrei tapped his back softly and Mihai turned and smiled a little at him. – And my advice to you guys: let’s not make it heavier for each other. See you all later.

Roma watched his back as he came bounding up the stairs, so lightly, and disappeared. He was tall and thin, and his dark curls were jumping. And, watching his back like that, Romashka thought that Mihai, however much of a leader he was, was actually younger than most of them – and more vulnerable, trying to show off as strong.

***

Mihai ran lightly all the way to his hut and didn’t even run out of breath. He didn’t look around. He wasn’t thinking of anything. His head was suddenly empty. He opened the door and went in, took off the dirty keds, put them neatly by the entrance, and went to his little working room. Took the broken glasses out of the pocket, sat down at the table, moved the papers away and found the simple music player and a pair of headphones. He put them on and looked out of the window in front of him. And sighed – he didn’t know why.

He pressed the little button. The music started playing and filled his world, wrapping him in thick layers of drum sound, guitar and bass lines, keyboards, percussion… Mihai took a roll of duct tape he had since God knows when God knows for what out of a drawer and started working. If he had a single thought in his head, that thought would be: ‘This is ridiculous!’ But he didn’t. His head was empty and hollow. He wrapped the tape around the bridge a few times, then came to the side. In his silly attempt he was serious, slow and careful, like a jeweller. He made sure that the glasses weren’t falling apart and looked at them once again, checking the work done.

Then stopped. Slid the headphones down to his neck and they hung as a useless collar. He stared at the broken glasses, fixed crudely, but forever. His stare wandered down the long crack on the lens and stopped on the bridge wrapped in the tape. Mihai put the glasses onto the table and rubbed his eyes with his fists. And then something in his throat suddenly broke. His shoulders shook and quiet moan broke out of his chest. Mihai dropped his head onto his tightly clenched fists on the table and cried – like a little boy, sobbing, unable to stop. Something was ripped never to be fixed, he felt. Because, however much his heart wanted to believe, and however loudly his love for his friends was calling from inside him, the rational part of his mind, which was always there and didn’t want to go away, told him that it all was in vain. His ridiculous try was for nobody. Sveatik wouldn’t wake up.

Ever.

The broken glasses on the table were watching him silently.

***

By the river it was quiet. Valerica and Roma had wandered away – Roma quietly, slowly along the riverside, and Valera dropped apologetically he was ‘gonna meet the Gîndul Mâţei fellas’ because he ‘missed them as hell’ and disappeared somewhere up the stairs. Vitea and Andrei were left alone on the opposite sides of the railing.

Andrei sniffed again and suddenly rose sharply. Victor looked at him, startled.

\- What? – he asked softly.

Andrei stopped on the steps, his back to Vitea, and clenched his fists – slowly, slowly tightening the grip. He didn’t answer. Vitea stood up and, his hand sliding along the railing, came up to Andrei.

\- He-ey, - he called.

Andrei turned to him and Vitea saw his eyes red and wet.

\- Oh God, - he managed. – Andrei, hey, listen, at least you – for God’s sake, I can not see you this way. You, the hero. My hero. Andrei…

He pressed down his lips and stopped – he couldn’t continue. Andrei looked in Victor’s eyes and squeezed his shoulder.

\- Vitea… my good man… - he whispered. – I know, I know, you’re trying to be the strong one… for your friends and family… though you yourself need someone to rely on… but… I’m not the hero here. Not now, not ever. I’m not. Our ginger Sveatik is a hero. Not was, but is and will be forever. I dare say ‘our’, because… - he paused and wiped his eyes with his free hand and managed: - because, even though I haven’t been with you for long, you… you all… you have…

Vitea shook his head.

\- We have nothing, - he said, and a tear ran down his cheek. – We have nothing but music.

\- And you do not need anything more, - Andrei said, looking away. A slight smile touched the corners of his lips. – Oh man… you truly are a family. I’d give a lot to be just your lost brother.

\- You are our brother, - Victor said quietly, smiling through his tears. – And you should know… if… when you return, that you will never be lost. We’ll be waiting, frate. I will be.

Andrei nodded and smiled wider – for a second, before biting his lower lip not to cry. He swallowed hard.

\- Vitea, - he said quietly. – Forgive me that I’ve been with the band for not more than a day. But – promise me one thing. I want to know that everybody is safe. Can you…

Victor raised his hand.

\- We’re all together, - he said. – No need for one to care more, because no one cares less. Go and be calm where you leave.

Andrei smiled at him gratefully.

\- I hope, - he said quietly. – And… you know what? I don’t know how things will be. I’m not a hero. If Ryjik agreed to lead me, it would be an honour to me. And… if I could give my life for him – for my general… for my hero… I would do that. And never think twice.

Vitea nodded.

\- We all would, - he managed hoarsely. – Andrei… I wanna let you go right now. Just so that it doesn’t hurt later.

Andrei pressed him to his chest with one sharp move.

\- An excellent idea, Vitea, frate, - he said bravely. – Goodbye. Take care of others… I don’t say of yourself, because you’re being cared of up there…

\- I’d give this and my right arm in addition, if that could help Ryjik, - Vitea said sarcastically, squeezing Andrei’s shoulder before letting him go. – If I only knew how! I’ll be okay, Andrei. And they all will be. And I wanna see you again. Can you promise me this?

\- I cannot promise, - Andrei smiled sadly. – But I will do my best.

\- Remember: you’re still a hero, - Vitea smiled back at him. – And we believe in you. Good luck, Andrei.

Andrei nodded and watched Vitea’s back as he went slowly up the stairs. He looked back twice before disappearing from sight. Andrei sighed and looked at the river.

\- I don’t want anybody to be dead, - he said to himself quietly. – And I don’t want Ryjik to leave us. But what can I do, man?..

***

Sveatik was lying on his bed, curled up. Life and Death were laughing or going ‘ahh!’ at something only they could see. It annoyed Slava to the worst, and first he tried to sleep, but figured out he couldn’t. In the middle of life and afterlife it was probably like that, but it didn’t make Sveatik feel any better. He was just about to say something venomous to the sisters – anyway they couldn’t change the situation! – when suddenly Life gasped:

\- Look, Dee! Another one!

Sveatik was immediately sitting up.

\- What?! – he exclaimed and rushed to Life, pushing pouting Death away.

Four out of five threads were bright orange. Sveatik jumped to his feet and did a little victory dance. Life clapped her hands – and he was immediately by her, almost hugging her, inquiring impatiently:

\- Who? Who this time?

\- Cebotari, - Death dropped, standing up and smoothing out the little wrinkles on her dress. – Because of this guy I’m losing a bet! He said he’d give his life for you and that if you agreed to lead him it would be an honour. And he meant it, seems to me, otherwise it wouldn’t work! Oh, and, by the way, he’s so quick to change his idols and heroes! I believe that just yesterday evening his hero was still Mihai – and now bang! It’s you!

Sveatik jumped up.

\- Woohoo! Andrei, good fellow! Why didn’t Valerica trust him, he’s so great!

Life smiled and glanced at Death.

\- It’s not yet our celebration, Dee! You still have a thread and we can lose everything. Vitea has a little time till the evening arrives…

\- Now you’re with him, - Death said capriciously. – And what do I do? Just look what’s happening! This Dandes is hugging his wife! They all start with hugging wives and sons, and then go and save lives!

Sveatik laughed.

\- Oh God, he loves them so! The final step is left to Vitica, and him I can trust completely! He’s So Lucky, did you know?

\- Since the day he was born, - Death dropped darkly. – And yep, you can trust him.

\- Dee… - Life tilted her head. - Don’t be offended, dear, we don’t decide here, remember?

\- I do! – Death shook her head. Suddenly a grin appeared on her lips. – And you know what? He doesn’t seem to hurry! There’s… let see… an hour left until our bet is over and you’re mine.

Sveatik’s wide smile fell.

\- Wa… wait, - he managed, suddenly hoarse. – How long does the bet last?

\- Exactly twenty-four hours, - Death said, sitting down onto the bed, straight and calm. – Since seven o’clock in the evening of yesterday twenty-three hours have just about passed. Here, in between, we can change the speed of time as we wish, return to the past and go forward to the future, as needed. And the time will soon be up. Vitea’d better hurry!

Sveatik bit his lower lip.

\- What’s he doing now?

Death smirked and said nothing.

***

The sun was setting and in the quiet backstreet it was quite dark already. But the neighbours weren’t sitting on the front porches talking and laughing, eating and drinking. Everything was in some awesome – or mourning – silence.

The big man snuck out of the hut and looked around. Seeing nobody, he hurried towards another hut across the street. On the porch he glanced around again. He reminded of a thief, and among the other little houses, lit up from inside and shining softly goldish, the one he chose was so harshly black and so quietly empty. The big man opened the door of the house – and as he heard a quiet creak of the door he started and disappeared inside.

In the house it was even darker and quieter than outside. In the street the soft wind was caressing the trees and grass on the little lawns. Inside the house even the clocks had stopped. The dark dead silence was solid and heavy, it was pressing on Victor’s ears and eyes and shoulders. He reached behind his back to find a switch. A click – and the yellow light shone in the hall. Victor squinted.

He’d left his wife singing the lullaby to their son to sneak out of the house quietly. She didn’t usually sing lullabies like that, but that evening she was especially thoughtful and quiet and so unusual all the way. He didn’t know why he was so afraid to leave. Maybe because he felt like they needed him more than anybody else. He’d sat with them for a while, he tried to excuse himself, but anyway he was worried. The thing was, he couldn’t live with any one of his family missing. The band was a part of his family, and so Sveatik was a part of it. And Vitea dared to try the last option. If this wouldn’t work, nothing would, and he knew it.

He snuck into the bedroom, glancing around with every next step. Only one lonely floor board creaked under his feet and the heavy silence fell on him again. Victor moved his shoulders uneasily and reached for the switch. It clicked slightly – and immediately the yellow light overfilled the room. Vitea looked around and swallowed hard as his gaze stopped on the bed.

The ginger man on it hadn’t moved since he last saw him. His face was still so childishly sad and so strangely wise. His chest was going slowly, barely noticeably, up and down, but even this slight motion was a sign of life in the surrounding still. Vitea went up to the bed and stopped over the guy. Examined him softly, then sat down onto the edge of the bed.

\- Slav? – he called softly. Sveatik didn’t respond – of course, but Vitea was listening to the silence for a second or two before going on quietly: - I came, you know. I came, frate.

He didn’t know whom he wanted to console – himself or lifeless Sveatik. He sighed quietly.

\- You know… I have one last hope, frate, - he said, looking down. – Just one. Just one thing I still can do. I will try. And, if something does happen – remember that no sacrifice is too much for saving your life, okay? – he smiled with the corners of his lips. If his plan worked, it could be fatal and he knew it. But he wasn’t scared. The void in his chest needed to be filled. Or, if it was impossible to fill… Vitea wiped his face with his hand. – But if nothing happens… Slava, mate, then forgive me. I will do everything I can. But I can not die in vain. First, my family and the leftovers of the band need me. And then – the lucky stars simply won’t let me! – he smiled bitterly. – I will try, frate. I promise I will do the best I can…

He turned to Sveatik and looked at his face. Tried not to think of anything distracting. And then put his left hand on the ginger’s chest, right over the heart, and his right hand on his forehead. Closed his eyes and held his breath, counting seconds not to think of anything. His own watch was ticking – and in the dead silence the quiet sound was thunder-like.

Ten… eleven…

He felt that something – or somebody – was looking at him and exhaled.

‘So, here I am, - he said soundlessly. – Listen… You probably know what I want to ask You for. You, who gave me this… this luck. This power. This – I don’t know what…’

Everything was silent. The air was still. Vitea sighed.

‘You know… I don’t blame You. You decided for me, You gave me – and this was a gift, and thank You. Do I even dare blame You? No, I don’t, I say. But… you see how it happened? This luck only brings me grief. Because it’s only for me…’

No answer. But Vitea didn’t expect one.

‘Listen… You must be almighty if You could give me this luck. But I don’t need anything when any one of my family – of my dearest people – is gone. And especially when it’s all my fault. I can talk a lot, like – I’m so slow to react, and so clumsy, and all that… I won’t. It’s of no use anyway. They wouldn’t want me to. Slava might not be my real brother… but… You sure know how I love them. They are my family. My brothers. My everything. A part of me. You know, one day I just got such a big bunch of fellas and they became really the dearest. So… please. I will ask for one thing. And if You really wanted me So Lucky…’

He made a pause and took a deep breath. A lump in his throat was choking him.

\- Please, - he whispered. – Bring him back. He’s alive, he’s not dead, I’m not asking for impossible. I will try to wake him up with my power – I know it, this warm power, it can, and you take all my luck from me, I don’t need it without any one of them. And if all the power won’t be enough… I don’t care if I die. Just let him live. All in all, were I a little faster, I anyway should have been on his place…

He bit his lower lip and pressed his hands to Sveatik’s chest and forehead, feeling his warm power leaving his body and still, despite his promise and faith, hoping they would both survive.

***

Sveatik was in the middle of nervous pacing the room when suddenly something stopped him and he couldn’t move any more. His stare turned helplessly to Life and Death – their faces were unreadable as they were approaching him and he didn’t know who of them had won. He was ready to shout – but he couldn’t. Something lifted his feet off the ground and he hung in midair, unmoving, helpless and scared. Life and Death both rose into the air after him and stepped lightly close to him. Then each one of them put her hand on Sveatik’s shoulder – and suddenly Life’s voice rang in his empty ginger head.

‘Slava. Don’t be scared. It’s over. It’s seven o’clock exactly.’

‘WHAT IS OVER?’ – Slava shouted wordlessly. – ‘Don’t be silent, tell me now – am I dead or alive?! DEAD OR ALIVE?!’

Death smirked and his heart fell deep, deep down…

‘Congratulations, - her voice sounded in his head. – This time Lifey won, with a little help from your friends. If you want to know, Vitea is now giving away his power to you, and before it leaves his body entirely and forever – together with his life – you should return. We can’t say long goodbyes, but formality is formality.’

Seeing fear in Sveatik’s eyes, Life smiled slightly.

‘Don’t worry. We – and the One Who is above us – don’t want to take him instead of you. We don’t need his life, and his luck he needs more than anybody else. We’re letting you go now. Don’t forget to thank you friends when you come back.’

‘I will’, - Sveatik could only assure her wordlessly. His soul was singing melodies that sounded like the ones of Valerica’s Almighty Trumpet. Death smirked again.

‘See you later’, - she said. And the cocoon made of thick light wrapped around Sveatik and he shook, and spun, and flew, and then – fell, fell, fell…

***

The sudden flash pushed Vitea’s hands off of Sveatik and his eyes opened wide. Sveatik sat up, as if sudden electric shock ran through his body. For a minute or two he and Victor were looking at each other, panting heavily, neither fully aware of what had just happened.

Sveatik squinted – his bad eyesight returned, as did the heartbeat, so unexpectedly pleasant from inside his chest. The sight was blurred – but even this was so dearly familiar, as this yellow light, and the smell of home, and – the dear face in front of him. He could recognize it a mile off.

\- Vitica… - Sveatik whispered. And couldn’t say anything else. The next moment Vitea was bear hugging him and the ginger couldn’t do anything but hold him tight in response.

\- God, Slava… you… are you back or am… I… dead?.. - Vitea whispered, and Sveatik heard his voice break as he couldn’t hold his tears any more.

\- I’m here, - he managed hoarsely. And he couldn’t think of anything else to say. And that was all that was needed.

Vitea squeezed him even tighter, and Sveatik couldn’t help but do the same.

\- You’ll choke me, - he whispered with a smile. – And what did I wake up for then? Come on, I’m afraid I’ll have to survive more than enough hugs today, have mercy… - he paused, feeling he was on the verge of losing control. He exhaled and managed gratefully: - Damn you very much, Vitea, I knew I could trust you!

Vitea sniffed and pushed him away, hands still on his shoulders. His face was all red and wet, but his smile was wide.

\- Oh God, - he whispered. – You’re back… back…

\- Whatever’s with my back, - Sveatik tapped his friend’s shoulders and smiled at him. – It’s so great to see you and understand that – we won, Vitea, good buddy! Just please, give me my glasses, I’d so-o-o like to see you normally! Didn’t know that for just twenty-four hours you can miss your friends so badly.

He rubbed his dry eyes. Too much emotions, he thought.

\- You don’t know how it felt for us, - Vitea said softly. – But your glasses aren’t here. Mihai has’em. We have to make him smile, don’t we? Not only I need you.

\- And not only your thread was in Life’s hands, - Sveatik smiled. – Come on, you just help me ‘cause I’m beetle blind.

And he laughed.

\- Oh God, - Vitea’s smile was wide. – How great is it – to have you back – and immediately have you laughing! Goodness gracious, man, I bet they all won’t cry for long! Let me just… - and he started rubbing his face with his hands fiercely. He didn’t even pay attention to Sveatik talking about Life – he probably thought he was talking metaphor.

Slava smiled widely.

\- It’s okay, okay! Don’t be shy. You have every right to cry now. I mean, my goodness, we’d almost lost each other!

\- But now you’re back, - Vitea said, standing up. He gave Sveatik his hand to help him – and after a moment of hesitation the ginger accepted it. Victor put his arm around Sveatik’s shoulders and Ryjik smirked – just as he always did.

\- Thanks, - he dropped, trying to be casual. But Victor caught the cat notes in his voice and smiled. Sveatik was back whole.

Ryjik was in a hurry and Victor had to calm him down every next step. Without his glasses Sveatik was really beetle blind and he stumbled all the time, trying to run forward faster than Vitea. What’s more, as he was coming quickly back to life and back to old habits and features, his hair started burning again. Vitea noticed the flames when they were just a few meters away from Mihai’s porch and Sveatik was ready to run away from his friend and wherever his crazy mind would drive him.

\- He-ey, - he smiled, ruffling Sveatik’s ginger hair. Ryjik glanced at him, moving a little aside.

\- Wha’? – he asked suspiciously.

\- Your flames, - Vitea explained. – They’re back.

\- … oh?

Sveatik scratched his head – and suddenly laughed and squeezed Victor’s shoulders with his arm.

\- God, I forgot! So, I’m back and burning, you say?

Vitea nodded with a wide smile.

\- That’s good. Everyone will believe it’s me, then, - Sveatik stated delightedly. – Yep, excellent. You can’t fake burning hair, can you?

Vitea laughed.

\- Well of course! We have only one like you here. Wait till the others see it! Yeeah, man, you’ve never been more alive!

\- You bet! – Sveatik smirked. – Come on, are we coming in?

Vitea nodded proudly and helped Sveatik up two stairs of Mihai’s porch. He decided not to knock and just opened the door softly. And went in, leading Sveatik with him. The light was turned off. Victor clicked the switch and shrugged. Sveatik looked around and hemmed. They passed through the hall and turned to Mihai’s room.

And stopped.

The man sitting his back to them at the table, not turning, barely resembled Mihai. He had those dark curls – they were distinguishable in the room, lit poorly with the light from the window. And the outlines of his frame were familiar. But the way he was sitting unmoving, straight, staring out of the window of the dark room was not Mihai’s. One would rather see him asleep in front of the table, head dropped on the hands, than sitting straight like that, not noticing the uninvited guests.

Vitea opened his mouth to call Mihai, but right at that moment Sveatik’s hair blazed up and he threw Vitea’s arm away and rushed to his friend.

\- Mihai! Mishka!

He grabbed his shoulders and turned Mihai to face him together with the chair. The indifferent red eyes looked up at him – and then suddenly the fear appeared in them and Mihai jumped up, knocking the chair over – and falling back himself. He sat up immediately and crawled back, staring at the ginger. Sveatik hurried to help him, but Mihai was backing off.

\- Oh… my… fuck… - he managed as his back touched the wall.

\- Mishka, - Sveatik started – and stopped. Mihai rubbed his eyes.

\- No, it… it can’t be… - he exhaled. – It can not. You could not wake up… it’s not…

\- That’s him, - Victor knelt down beside them and smiled at Mihai with the corners of his lips. – It’s really him, Mish. Alive. Ginger and burning. He woke up before my very eyes.

But Sveatik didn’t want to wait until Mihai came to himself. With one short ‘umh’ he pulled him off the wall and pressed to his chest. And Mihai suddenly understood what had happened. He threw his arms around the ginger, crying again.

\- Mishka… - Slava managed.

\- I thought I’d never see you again… - Mihai whispered through his tears. – I’m… so sorry… I lost all faith, I…

\- You had just enough, - Sveatik assured, tapping his back slightly. - If you didn’t have, I wouldn’t be right now in front of you. I’m here. I’m back. Thanks to you, ba-a-asta-a-ard!!! Enough of this snivelling, m? I don’t wanna follow you in this, please don’t make me. I can’t stand good, good men crying like this because of me. Oh come on!

He pushed Mihai away and tapped his cheeks, already laughing. He caught Mihai’s red face in his hands and made a cute face at him.

\- Oh ma-an! Enough of this. I love ya, only don’t weep, will you? Really, I don’t wanna cry today. Don’t see a reason. But if you will all be sobbing, I feel like I’m gonna get all sentimental. You don’t want any overly sentimental gingers around, hm? Wiping their tears off with their white handkerchiefs and being all lady-lady…

He laughed and threw his arms around Mihai’s neck for another short hug before pushing him away again and looking in his eyes pleadingly, searching for a smile. But Mihai wasn’t a stone, and neither was he a lachrymose self-pitying kind. He couldn’t resist. He was already smiling.

\- Ginger fucker…

He let go of Sveatik to wipe his face with his hands, looking at his friends time after time, as if saying: ‘See? I’m smiling. I will be okay now. Make sure!’ Sveatik smiled widely.

He stood up to his feet and Sveatik rose after him, too. The ginger examined his two smiling friends and smiled widely himself.

\- The-ere! Now that’s much much better. Vitea promised me glasses over here, will you?

Mihai smiled wider and looked down, shrugging.

\- There is a pair here, but… eh! 

\- Wha’? – Sveatik inquired playfully.

\- You see, - Mihai explained, rubbing his eyes, - when ginger fuckers fall almost dead from heights, wearing glasses while it happens… er… glasses, let’s say, rarely survive.

Sveatik looked at Mihai playfully-suspiciously.

\- Oh, you just look yourself, - Mihai hurried towards the table, grabbed the glasses and, glancing at them, handed them to Sveatik on the opened palms.

Ryjik took them and narrowed his eyes to see better, bringing them to his eyes. When he understood what had happened, he laughed loudly and tapped Mihai’s shoulder. Mihai stood there, lost, not knowing what to say or do, and Sveatik didn’t hurry to explain. He examined the glasses and put them on, wrinkling his nose. Looked around and laughed even louder.

\- Oh God, Mishka! – he managed finally. – Mihai!

Mihai, almost laughing himself – Sveatik’s laughter was extremely infectious, – shrugged. Slava adjusted his glasses on his nose, as usual, and looked up at the ceiling.

\- Oh man, - he said with a sudden sad smile, - this was the best you could do. Literally the best thing one could do for me. Thank you. This is… thanks.

Mihai just shrugged again. Slava looked at him softly.

But their little moment was suddenly broken in the most barbaric way. The loud stomp filled the room and in a mere moment four guys rushed into the room. One of them – the one who was running in front of everybody – stopped suddenly and spread out his arms with one sharp move, forcing everybody else to freeze.

The silence that fell after that was deafening. Mihai, Sveatik and Vitea turned to the door.

Valerica’s jaw was somewhere at the floor level. With his arms wide spread he was keeping his three Gîndul Mâţei friends behind him, but their fists unclenched a while ago and they were just looking in surprise from one in the room to another. Valerica’s stare was fixed on the ginger. He was examining him silently for a second more.

Then, nobody understood what happened. A hurricane seemingly ran across the room – from the door and towards Sveatik. The room filled with Valerica’s triumphant whooping as he threw himself oh Ryjik’s neck – and so enthusiastically that the ginger was literally knocked off his feet. Sveatik embraced him instinctively, stepped back – and fell to the floor under all the warm living weight, so suddenly and cheerfully brought down upon him. Valerica was laughing and shouting something unintelligible – and in a moment Ryjik was laughing, too. They rolled on the floor in a friendly fight for a moment or two, before Valera straddled Sveatik, who wasn’t trying to resist any more and was just lying underneath dying of laughter, and exclaimed:

\- Caughtcha!

Sveatik threw his head back, unable to stop giggling. His face was red.

\- Oh my God, Valerichka! – he managed, trying unsuccessfully to push the young Martian away. – Stop that, goodness, Lerka!

Valera laughed.

\- Give up, you, resurrected! You deserve worse!

\- O-o-o-o-oh! – Slava groaned, finally managing to stop laughing. – God, I give up to ya com-pletely! Have me whole. With free hugs, how can I get away without?..

Valerica jumped off him and held out his hand to help him rise. Sveatik stood up – and found himself immediately in Valerica’s arms.

\- Slavka… - Lera mumbled into his shoulder, as if it wasn’t him a moment ago, laughing and giving off incredible amounts of the most positive energy. – Oh God, don’t you scare us like this ever again! Ever-ever!

\- Vale-erichka, - Slava drawled with a smile, but a lump was forming in his throat – the Martian, so kind and always smiling, who knew how to be happy, was the darling of all hearts and surely a dear ‘frate’ – brother – for Sveatik himself. He patted Valera’s back and pressed him a little closer. – I won’t, frate, I won’t.

\- So good to have you back…

Valerka moved back a little and examined Slava’s face – the familiar smirk, broken glasses wrapped in duct tape settled on the bridge of his nose and making up for the lack of any visible eyebrows. And those shiny eyes. And Sveatik admired Valerica’s smile – the one he could disarm thousands with – and felt he was home. He put his arm around Valera’s shoulders and turned to Mihai and Vitea, who had already exchanged handshakes with all three Gîndul Mâţei fellas.

\- Now look here, fellas! – he said proudly, with his favourite self-conscious smirk back. – You just saw a good example of how to greet friends who were talking to Death just twenty minutes ago. Look at this beauty: nothing like your tears, just pure – concentrated – joy! All learn from Lerchik.

He pressed Valera to himself as a little brother, glanced at him – and stopped with the most offended face he could make. Valera quickly brushed away tears from the corners of his eyes and smiled at Sveatik.

\- I’m fine, - he assured. – Really. Honestly. I’m so glad to see you…

Slava sighed and smiled.

\- Okay, okay, - he said softly. – You have every right to cry now. You all have. But thank you anyway. For being… being what you are.

Lera nodded.

\- Have you brought the good news to Romka already?

Sveatik smiled shyly.

\- My bad.

\- Don’t ever forget your best mates! - Vitea ruffled his burning hair.

\- Bestest! – Valera smiled proudly.

\- It was the hardest for Roma, - Mihai remarked, coming up to them.

\- We’ll… go, Valer? – one of the Gîndul Mâţei fellas – his name was Nicu – called unsurely.

Lera turned to them and smiled as adorably as he could.

\- I’m sorry, - he said softly. – We’re having moments. Either excuse us – or, which is better, feel free to go and not watch good fellas getting all sentimental. Mhm? See, we have a friend resurrected here…

\- We know, - another fella nodded. – And man, haven’t we seen ya getting sentimental!

\- Well, this much you haven’t, - Valera remarked with a wide smile.

\- We’ll go, - Nicu put his arms around the other two fellas’ shoulders. – Have a good time, ‘kay, Valer?

Valera nodded.

\- You bet!

\- See you.

\- Later, fellas.

They all left the house together and walked away in different directions – the four hurried to Roma’s hut and the ‘gânditori’ went away somewhere.

This time Valera went forward and knocked at the door. Sveatik mumbled something about ruining the surprise, but quickly closed his mouth. The silence fell. They were all waiting. Seconds passed. They were long, long. Finally Mihai broke the silence:

\- Doesn’t it seem like he’s not there?

Everybody turned to him. Yeah, that thought had just flashed in their minds. They glanced around. It was quite dark.

\- But if he’s not there… where is he?

This time everybody turned to Sveatik. He’d just shaped their common thought in words. And after a moment’s silence Mihai finished it:

\- He might be anywhere. Doing anything. Fellas…

\- Oh God, - Vitea managed in a dismal tone.

They jumped off the porch.

\- Are we gonna go look for him? – Valerica inquired.

\- What if everything’s okay? – Sveatik tilted his head. – What if he just went walking to forget, like, you know? I mean – come on, it’s Roma!

\- And what if something’s wrong? – Vitea doubted. – We all know what had happened. What if Roma…

\- Where did you last see him? – Mihai asked, glancing around.

\- He went away along the river, - Vitea remembered.

\- Everything is probably okay, - Sveatik said unsurely. – We’ll just go find him and…

\- And smile him, - Valera caught the thought. – Let’s go.

It was quiet by the river. Not a figure. Nobody moving.

\- Romka! – Sveatik called.

There was no answer.

\- Ro-o-om! – Valera shouted, bringing his hands to his mouth as a kind of a loudhailer.

Everything was quiet. Mihai glanced around.

\- Let’s check here by the brook and if we don’t find him, then go look for him in town, - he decided.

\- I’m kinda worried, - Vitea informed.

\- Check out Valera, - Mihai smiled.

Victor glanced at the Martian, who was quietly watching them.

\- Well, yeah, - he said after a pause. – So?

\- If something was wrong he’d be scratching his arm, - Mihai explained simply. – Let’s go, folks?

They headed quickly up and down the river, splitting and gathering together again, skipping, calling, looking up and across the brook. Nothing. They met near the stairs and examined each other.

\- So, what now? – Valera asked. There wasn’t much worry in his voice, he was just seemingly waiting for instructions.

\- You tell us, - Mihai shrugged.

Valera smiled and opened his mouth, but a voice interrupted him:

\- Looking for me?

Everybody turned their heads to the sound. Romashka was standing on the steps, in the middle, looking at the guys. Vitea heard Sveatik hush quietly from behind his back and smiled slightly at Roma.

\- Yeah, we were.

\- Must be something important… - Roma took a few steps down, watching his own hand sliding along the railing. – So what’s the news you brought me?

He turned to them and Mihai noticed something scary in his eyes, in his entire face. He was ready for everything, but it was bad, no, terrible. He was uncontrollable now, absolutely calmly uncontrollable. And he understood they had to stop that madness. He grasped Sveatik’s wrist and dragged him from behind Victor and pushed in front of himself.

\- Here, we have a present for you. Want?

Roma looked at Slava and said nothing. He opened his mouth and closed it again. He froze. Sveatik smiled.

\- I’m back, - he said quietly. – Thanks to you, I am.

Romashka took an unsure step. And another. And then he ran, almost flew all the way down the stairs and embraced Sveatik, squeezed him tight.

The ginger choked and gasped, but Roma wasn’t about to loosen his grip.

\- I promised I’d hug the hell outta you, now I’m honestly gonna, - he hissed into Sveatik’s ear. – You don’t know, don’t know how it hurts, Ryjik!

His voice trembled, he was biting his lips. Sveatik held him tight.

\- I don’t know, - he answered quietly. – Just because I believed in you, fellas, all the way. And you didn’t betray me. No way would you, and no way will I – any time. I’ll tell you what was there, in between, and you’ll see. You’re my saviours. And you – you were the first, Rom, and you were the one who gave me hope, mhm? I won’t leave you like this again, frate. Not ever. No matter how far I go.

Roma released him and looked at his face in worry, wanting to say something, when they heard quick heavy steps – and Andrei came running down the stairs and threw his arms around all the fellas together.

Slava laughed and pushed him away.

\- Hey! – he exclaimed. – You wanted to make sure? I think it’s me you all want to choke today!

Andrei jumped away, looked at him – and rushed back to him and squeezed him in the fifth hug today.

\- Ryjik! – he laughed into his ear. – Oh God, Slava!!! How?!

\- Give me some time, - Sveatik smiled, trying unsuccessfully to put his chin on Andrei’s shoulder not to bury his nose in the warm black tee. Cebotari was really huge.

\- I just heard your voices, - Andrei explained, letting go of Sveatik and examining him fatherly. – And I wanted so to remember you all happy! I wanted so to see you all together again!

\- You have us here, - Vitea smiled. – We’re all together. For the last time – who knows until when?

\- Yes, who knows until when… - Sveatik echoed. He turned to the guys and looked in each one’s eyes, in order. In Valerica’s eyes sparkles were jumping. He was smiling widely. Vitea was looking at them softly, like an older brother. Mihai’s black eyes were serious, but warm, much warmer than he got to see them ever before. Roma was looking at him in slight worry, as if sensing what he was going to say, but there was hope in his smile. And Andrei read everything in his eyes. He smiled and nodded reassuringly. Sveatik looked back at the four in front of him and said: - Fellas. I’m leaving tomorrow, too.


	8. Will we walk again once more?..

Roma opened his mouth, but didn’t say anything. Everybody started exchanging glances and quick surprised phrases, the questions flew into the air, the questions addressed to nobody. But Roma was staring at his friend, unmoving. Slava felt his heart wring. Out of context of all the ideas he kept inside his ginger head this announcement seemed unnecessarily cruel.

\- Slav… wait, it’s how? – Roma asked quietly. – I… I mean, we just got you back – and what, we have to let you go again?! We have to let you go right away? How is it, Slav?

Sveatik bit his lower lip and tried to smile. He looked around – and saw all the guys’ stares pointed at him. Even Andrei seemed to have changed his mind. He glanced away thoughtfully and remarked:

\- This sounded better in your head, didn’t it? – he examined Sveatik from head to toe. – We heroes live in the moment, - he finally decided. – I totally see you as a hero, but don’t hurry to smile. We totally forget that the wounds are fresh, and they’re deep, too. As you did. As I did.

The silence fell. Everybody was just examining him. All their smiles, such dear smiles, had faded. Slava looked down.

\- Listen, fellas, - he said quietly. – It sounds somehow cruel now, or what, but listen to what I have to say, please. You see, Basta Mafia was made for protecting peace. For us to have a chance to try and build happiness – even in this difficult time. To protect the leftovers of our Moldovanshire. Not to give up, yes. But it was all for peace. And me – I am the man to fight.

\- We saw you fighting! – Valerica exclaimed. – If there hadn’t been for Roma, you’d probably be dead, you reckless head. You did everything not to stay alive, you understand? Ask anybody here, and he will agree with me!

\- We can’t let you go, - Vitea nodded. – Valerica has a point, no, he has every goddamn point in the world!

\- I didn’t finish, - Sveatik stopped him softly, raising his hand. – Look, fellas, I’m not gonna run around asking for trouble. But I’m a warrior type of person, you see? A fire guy. You’re all good at protecting peace – no joke, you’re all excellent protectors. You love peace and quiet. And that’s good, I mean, that’s… normal, that’s what people do! But the point is… - he looked down, trying to put the thoughts together and licked his lips. Under the five stares of his friends, so worried and not knowing what to do to stop him, he was lost. – The point is, I can’t sit here just waiting until something bad happens – no matter how hard preparing for such. I’ll rather take a kitchen knife and Nicu’s shotgun and go search for those preparing that bad for us. Attack is the best defence, eh?

He looked up and smiled slightly, searching for the littlest trace of agreement in the guys’ stares – in vain. Andrei put his big and heavy warm paw on Sveatik’s shoulder and looked deep into his eyes. foo

\- Look, Slavik, - he said softly. – I don’t think you understand. I’ve been a loner for all my life. I’m a hero. I work alone. And I know where I am going. There are people I know in Rom, people who would help me. So I am sure. And still I don’t want to leave you – my newly found family. And you – do you know where you are going? What do you have apart of a quick – too quick – decision?

Sveatik looked at him, thought for a second and snapped:

\- You!

Andrei tilted his head to the side a little.

\- Us?

\- You five, - Sveatik answered sharply. – I know that you’re all afraid for me. I know. The thing is, I am as afraid for each and every one of you jerks, if not more.

He sniffed fiercely, then looked at the five guys – five brothers – in front of him. And closed his eyes for a second – not to see those eyes. He inhaled. He needed to restore the calm. For a little while at least. He needed to speak. He needed to explain.

\- Fellas, - he managed quietly. – I won’t die. I fuckin’ promise you. I’ll do my best not to, and if I really want or don’t want something, it will or will not happen respectively. I give you a hundred percent. Two hundred, if you’re not convinced.

\- I’m not letting you go anywhere!

Roma grasped his wrist and squeezed it, looking him right in the eyes.

\- Do whatever you wish to me, I’m not letting you go, - he said sharply – but pleadingly at the same time. – I know you. You’re not going anywhere, Ryjik. I won’t sleep, eat or anything, if necessary. I’ll be watching you. I won’t let you run away and just die. There’s death out there, Slava! – he pointed his finger somewhere where the wall used to be – and he was begging, he wasn’t even trying to sound assured any more. – And, if nothing else, you’re the best warrior here, damn, restless and reckless, the fire guy! We need you. Our army consists of six, without Andrei – of five. Do you really want to abandon us? Abandon City C? Abandon this all we built together? Slava!..

Sveatik sighed.

\- You’re the best warriors, and you are doomed to win, - he said with a slight smile. – Besides, you have Vitea, if nothing else! Let him be your talisman, your shield, or whatever. Just look how much you have. You have Valerica and his trumpet which is literally almighty. You have Mihai – he’ll always be quick to find a way out. Shit, he’s a born strategist! And you, Roma – you, are you gonna say you’re less reckless than I am?! – he smiled and put his free hand on Roma’s tightly clenched fingers – and tapped slightly. – We have more in common than you think. Don’t you ever think I’m happy to leave you. That I truly want that. That I wanna abandon you. But this way it would be better. While I’m away – find consolation in knowing I’m thinking of Basta Mafia and folks in the old fortress while fighting the motherfuckers somewhere. I’m gonna win, and win for you, guys. I will free Moldovanshire. If not me – who, all in all? And I’ll make sure you won’t have to face days like yesterday ever again. You hear me? Ever.

Roma’s fingers trembled under his, but he wasn’t letting go.

-Who’re you trying to convince – me?!

Sveatik smiled at him softly and sadly.

\- Besides, if you know me, then you sure know I’m anyway going to escape. Rom…

Romashka shook his head aggressively.

\- Wait.

It was Mihai’s voice. With that familiar line of concern between his eyebrows, he was examining the fellas. Everybody turned to him.

\- Try and convince me, - Mihai said calmly. – Just try and convince me that it’ll be okay. I don’t know how you will do it, but if you do…

\- Simple as that, - Sveatik shrugged. – See what? Stuff like this, like what happened yesterday, goes on when we’re all together. When we all gather together we might surely be stronger, with support and all that jazz, but at the same time we’re way more vulnerable. Because we’re friends, you know? Because we call each other ‘frate’. We, like, become one another’s weakness. And I… shit, I can not risk you, fraţilor! – he raised his finger and his voice trembled, giving out his tension. – When I am alone, I don’t depend on anybody and I don’t owe anybody anything. I don’t have to risk. See my point here? – his gestures became unusually wide. – I have nobody to argue with, I have nobody to protect but myself – I mean as at the very moment. I know you will take care of Basta Mafia and of each other. But I want to make sure everything is okay. That everybody is safe. That everybody will survive.

Mihai tilted his head to the side a little and examined his friend’s face.

\- As much as I don’t wanna say it, you have the point, - he nodded thoughtfully. – Only just I still doubt that you’ll take care of yourself properly. You see? Roma’s right, you’re reckless. You might not want to risk yourself, but you can put yourself in danger without wanting to.

\- Do you know why I was so reckless? – Sveatik said, and that smirk appeared on his face. – Because you’d got my back.

\- But if you go we won’t, - Mihai remarked, moving his shoulders slightly.

\- That’s the thing, - Sveatik shrugged. – I’ll have to do everything myself. Pure self-preservative instinct. And a little bit of heroism… just, you know, a little, this much… - he smirked again.

Mihai raised his eyebrows and nodded. In a short pause his verdict was:

\- Sounds legit.

Roma raised his eyebrows and released Sveatik’s wrist. The most genuine surprise and indignation were written on his face.

\- You… you say that… - he only managed and choked.

Vitea put his hand on Mihai’s shoulder.

\- He-ey there, - he said distrustfully. – Weren’t it you who was crying the most? Weren’t it you whom we found on the verge of madness? And now you’re just ready to let him go like this?

\- Yeah, weren’t it your red eyes! – Valera snapped.

\- You don’t know everything, - Mihai said simply, turning to them. – It was actually out of despair. I made an attempt and the voice of reason told me it was in vain. The little thing I could do for a living person was nothing to a dead one. And I felt like I was grasping, like, at a straw, you know? And like I was gonna drown anyway. So I thought I’d let myself drown. As a sensible one. As an idiot. That’s another case. Here I see Slava alive, and I know him well enough to trust him and let him go. And if you are sensible enough, you’ll do the same.

There was silence. And then Valerica burst out.

\- Guess what? We’re not!

He pushed Mihai out of his way and came up to Sveatik. Looked him in the eyes – Sveatik was looking straight back at him from behind the cracked lens. The Martian’s lips trembled, as if he was going to spit some terrible words into the redhead’s face – but he didn’t say it. He turned sharply back to Mihai and looked at him in righteous anger.

\- You’re always here being oh-so-sensible! – he exclaimed. – While for real you’re weak! You’re clutching at straws. Do you know why you’re so much of a strategist? Because you’re afraid! You’re afraid for yourself!

A hand covered his mouth as Sveatik turned Valerica to face him.

\- Lerka, - he said softly. – Valer. Don’t.

Valera’s nostrils flared, but he didn’t try to fight Ryjik. Slava smiled and took his hand away.

\- There, - he said with a smile. – Don’t say that. I know why you’re saying. And I don’t want you guys to break up. I want you to be one, as you really are. No, as we are. Mihai is being oh-so-sensible, because he is sensible. Admit it, we’re quite of desperate heads, hm? Where would we go without him?

Valera was watching Sveatik silently, his lips pressed together, but anger, unknown before, was burning in his eyes.

\- Valera, - Sveatik sighed quietly. – Y’know, I didn’t expect you to support me. I know what you feel. That’s what I felt when I jumped in front of the spell. But the difference is, look: you won’t be there with me. So I won’t have anyone to jump for! – he raised his eyebrows and smiled bitterly. – Valerka, listen. I…

\- Shut up, - Valera said quietly and turned away, pressing his lips together weirdly, fighting back the wave that was clearly rising from his heart. – I’m a damn egoist. I don’t want to let you go because if… if – I don’t want to feel that pain again.

Slava closed his eyes for a second and squeezed the bridge of his nose with his fingers.

\- You’re not an egoist, - he managed finally, looking up at Valera. – Not at all. You’re only human. You don’t want to be hurt, and you don’t want others to be hurt. It’s completely normal…

\- Do you know the difference between the earthlings and the Martians? – Valerica said quietly. – Martians are men to act. They don’t talk. They just go and make something happen – or not happen. You see? Making decisions for them isn’t a problem.

\- That’s why they are on the verge of becoming the fuck extinct.

That was Mihai’s voice. Valera and Sveatik looked at him. The ginger smiled softly.

\- He’s right, Valer. You said you’re half Martian. But the other half of you is human. Like… the kindest human being I’ve ever seen! And you have your doubts. I know. I still doubt myself. Don’t torture yourself because of that.

Ryjik reached behind Lera’s back and dragged Mihai in between them.

\- Now shake hands and let it be peace, - he ordered with a smirk.

\- I’m sorry, - Valerica said, looking down. Mihai smiled slightly and shook the young Martian’s firm hand.

\- How can one be angry at you?.. – he said softly. – Don’t worry, Valer.

Roma pushed them out of the way and looked at Ryjik, raising his chin slightly.

\- My last words are: you’re not going anywhere. I’m not letting you.

Andrei examined his friends and nodded thoughtfully. He put his arm around Ryjik’s shoulders and said:

\- Slav, I have to say something to you.

Roma looked at Andrei and shook his head slightly. No, Andrei, his eyes said, you won’t help him run away. Cebotari smiled reassuringly with the corners of his lips and led Sveatik away.

They were quite far away from the fellas when the hero broke the silence:

\- Slava?

\- Hm?

\- Tell me honestly: why do you want to leave them?

\- I was being honest, - Sveatik replied, looking up at the stars. – I said all I had to.

\- Not all, - Andrei raised his eyebrows and tilted his head slightly. – However ridiculous it may sound, tell me.

Sveatik was silent for a second or two. Then he sniffed:

\- Because I don’t want to be protected, you understand? Now they will be all around me, watching me, making sure everything’s okay. Do you think I don’t know them? Roma, Valera, Vitea… Mihai probably won’t, but fuck, what will it change?! I want to fight, Andrei. I don’t want to just sit around in the fortress being looked after like a goddamn chicken! And they won’t make me.

Andrei smiled.

\- But they care, Slav, - he said thoughtfully. – They are your friends and they are worried, it’s natural. They’re only human, you said it right.

\- And that’s the fucking problem, - Sveatik sniffed and licked his lips.

Andrei shrugged and they both spent a few moments in silence.

\- Listen, I can suggest something, - Andrei informed suddenly.

\- Wha’? – Sveatik glanced at him.

\- Look, - Andrei started thoughtfully, - don’t make them lose two people at once. Okay, goodbye – then goodbye, I go to Rom and you stay. Watch them, Slava. And listen to yourself. Wait some time. Work. If you still feel that you have to go after all that – then go. Don’t make such confessions, like you’ve just did. Don’t make them suffer. A long goodbye only means extra tears. Leave a note – for Mihai, for example. He’s the leader, and the sensible one, he’ll manage to calm them down, explain everything and keep peace. But stay – for a little while at least. Romashka’s right: how is it – they’ve just got you back and have to lose again?

Sveatik looked down and nodded.

\- Yeah, - he said quietly. – Yeah, you’re right. Let’s go back to the fellas. I think we can go to my house now and I’ll tell you about everything I saw there in between.

Andrei nodded with a smile.

\- That’s better, - he said softly. And added in a moment: - By the way, how do you call the band? I only heard you referred to as ‘the band’, to be honest…

Sveatik laughed.

\- No-o, we sure have a name.

\- I thought Zdob Şi Zdub would be a good one, you know? – Andrei looked at the sky. – You fellas just can fight as good as you play, see? Your style in war is as good as your style in music. Your beat. You have the beat. You… what?

Sveatik was laughing. Andrei looked at him in surprise, but the ginger’s laugh was so infectious and he couldn’t help but smile, too. Finally Sveatik managed to wipe his wet eyes.

\- Know what? – he said, still giggling. – Zdob Şi Zdub is the name!

Andrei raised his eyebrows.

\- Oh God. No, really?

Sveatik nodded, still laughing.

\- Believe it or not! But better believe.

Andrei covered his face with his hand.

\- Oh go-osh! I must have noticed it with the corner of my eye and thought it was my own… darn, I’m ashamed!

Sveatik tapped his back.

\- Oh come on! ‘Ts okay, it happens. We didn’t put so much of a deep meaning into our title, to be honest.

Andrei rubbed his nose with a short laugh.

\- Oh well, but now you have one. A deep meaning is never bad, ha?

Sveatik glanced away, a smirk on his lips.

\- Ye-eah, - he drawled quietly.

***

It was well into the night when everything was told and overexcited fellas started yawning. Slava understood that it was time to go to bed when Vitea pushed him in the ribs with his elbow and pointed at Valerica fast asleep, his head dropped onto Victor’s own shoulder. He brought a finger to his lips and Slava smiled and nodded.

The Martian was sleeping so fast that nobody managed to wake him up – not that anybody actually wanted. They gave up quite quickly and Andrei and Romashka just carried Valerica carefully to his hut and put him in bed. Valera turned onto his side and sniffed in his sleep.

Andrei stopped over him and watched him for a few seconds. Then took his green bag that was hanging on his shoulder that whole time, fished something red out of it and put by Valerica’s pillow. Romashka glanced at him.

\- What’s that?

\- A goodbye gift, - Andrei said quietly. – you remember what I told ya? That’s it. This is a bandanna, God knows why. It can’t even protect that head… - he smiled into the darkness. – But eh, will be a memory of me. A keepsake.

Romashka nodded thoughtfully. Andrei looked at them both and quickly walked out. Romashka stayed for a couple more seconds. He just wanted to make sure everything was okay with the young Martian. Then he sighed and headed to the door.

Before leaving the room, Roma turned around and cast a last one glance at the sleeping creature. Valerica grew thinner since he came to the Basta Mafia. He wasn’t fat then, when he was just a smiling stranger who didn’t mind them carrying him around. But since then he became even more wiry, muscular and – what, slender? Something new appeared in Valerica, even though he never changed inside – the fellow who could seemingly disarm thousands with a single smile… and yet he was – the same but different. The one to fight for ‘his people’. When had they become ‘your’ people, Valerica Fara Frica? Roma smiled to himself slightly. Valerica in the battle was a new man to him, and he wasn’t disappointed in this man. That was the friend he wanted to see beside him: a reckless warrior – and yet a merciful heart.

Roma sighed quietly and looked away. His soul would have been completely calm, but…

He hurried out of the room and called quietly:

\- Andrei!

Cebotari stopped at the door and turned to him. The backstreet outside was moonlit and the house was filled with blackness. Romashka could distinguish only Andrei’s silhouette against the bluish rectangle of the doorway. He was tall, sturdy and a little stooped. Roma saw the line of his low sharp cheekbone. The tiny ponytail. His big eyes sparkled with a little cold ray.

\- Yeah, what? – he replied finally, examining Romashka. He could almost feel the hero’s stare. But he brushed away the feeling and came up to Andrei.

\- Listen… - he started – and didn’t finish. Cebotari looked at him, nodded thoughtfully and stepped out of the house.

\- Come on, - he called.

Romashka went out of the house, headed slowly down the stairs and stopped, glancing to the hero and then quickly looking away and staring at the paving stones. Andrei closed the door quietly behind his back and examined Romashka’s frame.

\- Hey? – he called softly.

Roma raised his head and glanced at his friend again.

\- Let’s go to sleep, - Andrei said soothingly. – Don’t say anything, don’t. Let’s leave it for the morning.

\- When are you leaving? – Roma asked quietly.

\- At eight, - Andrei glanced at the stars.

\- Nope, - Romashka shook his head. – I hope to have a good night’s sleep this time. And I… I don’t want any extra tears, you understand? I don’t know, everything that had happened, it… shook me, you know? Let’s say goodbye right now, if say it at all. And tomorrow I wanna wake up and know you’re safely away to Rom. I wanna feel better – at last. My bad times last a little, if you count the hours I’ve been in trouble through my life, but bring enormous amounts of… you know, fear, pain. Despair. Andryush, I… I don’t want tomorrow to be spoilt. I wanna leave everything bad in this night. In the past. Okay?

Andrei smiled.

\- Technically, it’s already ‘tomorrow’, - he remarked. – But you’re right.

\- Yeah.

\- Yeah.

They were just standing staring at each other for a moment or two. Then Andrei came up to Roma in one step and pressed him to his chest.

\- I just thought… what if that’s the last time I see you? – he said with a smile.

Romashka strained.

\- Don’t you dare.

Andrei laughed quietly.

\- I’m serious. With us, heroes, you can’t be sure of the next day. Being human at all, you’re never sure, to be honest! I don’t wanna leave anything unfinished. Goodbye, Romashka.

\- See you, - Roma said with pressure, throwing his arms around Andrei. – See you later. Understand?

\- See you, - Andrei replied thoughtfully, letting him go. – Good night to you. I won’t go to bed, I think.

\- Have fun, - Roman said, and his voice sounded unfamiliar.

Andrei smiled.

\- I’ll try.

***

The next day the village inside the old fortress filled with new faces – and old friends. The ex-Grey-Army-soldiers turned out to be the simple people – some of them were lost long ago, some of them were completely new to the Basta Mafians, some of them were considered dead and some of them were from faraway corners of Moldovanshire.

The next day the works on rebuilding the wall began. Vitea’s plan, somewhat perfected, excellently reasoned and shaped in good clever words by Mihai, was approved by Bunica and Bunelul – and all the elderly people. The old warriors knew what to do, but they all said the fellas had to be prepared for anything. They had to train a lot, they had to gain new powers and they couldn’t lose their present ones. They had to care about themselves, but they also had to become excellent warriors before the new Grey Army strikes – and if that happened they had to be able to protect their people again. But this time better.

And the next day quite dark Mihai brought Anatol back to the studio.

***

\- …What. Did you. Just. Say?

The man in grey backed up a little, bowing and giving a servile look at the one in front of him. The other men in the room threw him a couple of quick glances and looked back down. They all had bad news, and such a future was waiting for each of them, they understood.

The man at the head of the table stood up from his chair, piercing the man in grey with his furious stare.

\- Repeat, - he said quietly. – What you just said – repeat it.

The man in grey nodded quickly.

\- I said that… that the memories of the entire Seventh Division are now gone from your Memory Room… domnu Prodan…

\- Phenomenal!..

Prodan sat back down to his chair and covered his face with his hand.

\- Phenomenal… I gave you an order: to get rid of that village in the fortress. Of the little. Village. Of the village filled with some little weaklings. I knew there would be Andrei Cebotari, I told you to bring him, and do whatever is needed to achieve that. What have you done?

This was a secret conference of the entire Moldovan Mafia heading. Marcel Prodan – the man at the head of the table – was the boss: he took the leading of the Eighth Country. Smart, one of the most brilliant minds of his time, handsome, and quietly, but madly greedy and power-thirsty – this man in his early forties was the perfect leader. A pure-blooded Moldovan – looking at him you would even say he was well-bred, he reminded of some pedigreed animal, strong and concentrated – and dangerous. The Seventh Division of his army, the one which was sent to get rid of the little bothering spot on Marcel’s map, was long gone, as their memories were not in his power any more. Marcel was nervous to the point. He was very smart, but he didn’t understand how that could happen at all. The Seventh Division was one of the best, the most professional in the entire Army. And the memories were taken care of well. Damn, he chose all the capos himself, and he knew he could trust them!

The man in a brown suit stood up.

\- Domnu Prodan… - he started with a little bit of hesitation, but quickly collected himself. – I have a recording for you, I stopped getting the video just a little while ago, and we can watch the recording now.

\- Turn on the projector, - Marcel threw, rubbing his face with his hand.

The man in grey – the guardians’ capo – gave the brown one a grateful look. The controllers’ capo – that was him – smiled barely noticeably, but reassuringly. He was always ready to provide the boss with the proof that nobody was to blame in their camp. Deep inside he hated when the Mafia’s people suspected in betrayal were killed. He thought it even bigger betrayal, and all in all had a very strict and messed up moral codex.

The technician turned on the projector and set it to fit the screen perfectly. He knew how pedantic and picky Marcel Prodan was when nervous. The man in brown connected his little receiver to the projector and pressed a few buttons. The screen shone and the Mafiosi saw the grey way and the fortified wall.

\- On what coordinates did you turn it on? – the boss asked wearily.

\- Right in front of the fortress, - the brown capo answered quickly. – Just watch, domnu Prodan…

\- I just hope it will be useful, - Prodan dropped, squinting a little.

Nobody dared say anything. The video went on. The camera was fixed on one of the simple warriors and it was shaking a little as he marched. Marcel rubbed his eyes a little. It was making him feel sick. He was about to make some sharp remark about it, when the fortified wall appeared on the screen in every detail, then fell down under the invisible force of the best sonic weapon. The sound was muffled, but they all could hear it crush. Marcel locked his hands. Right behind the wall there was a green ‘buffer zone’. He tilted his head. A couple of figures on the edge of the sight jumped to their feet and ran away. The camera rushed forward and the room filled with the muffled stomp. The Army was running to attack.

The people’s cries were barely audible. But the Army was still running forward without stopping. Marcel frowned.

\- Wait a minute… why aren’t they killing anyone? I mean, I understand, there might have been a plan to capture Andrei Cebotari, as I know I gave an order to do that, but…

The capo responsible for the army jumped up, his fists clenching. He was trembling with his whole body, feeling the menace.

\- I don’t understand… I gave them the clearest programme! It was passed to every single soldier, I made sure!

\- Quiet, - the boss ordered calmly. – Sit down please, Dragoş.

But the capo didn’t sit down. He understood the situation perfectly. He was most probably counting his last seconds.

\- Domnu Prodan, I assure you…

\- I said: sit down, - Marcel repeated, annoyed. – Let me see it through.

Dragoş sat down, biting his knuckles.

\- On the second thought, could anyone reprogramme the soldiers when we didn’t know? – Marcel threw into the air in a few seconds.

Dragoş grew red like borsch.

\- I checked them a lot of times yesterday, but today the technicians could have forgotten… Domnu Prodan, I…

\- Dragoş, - Marcel stopped him, raising his hand. – I understand everything. Don’t consider me a monster, I’m always acting no more than out of necessity. I’m asking: could someone?

\- Y… yes, - the capo managed, swallowing hard, slowly sitting down. – I guess… there could be…

\- That’s all I need to know. Calm down, will you?

The stage appeared on the screen. Marcel frowned as the camera stopped and in that new silence he heard the muffled sound of music.

\- Wait, what?

\- I’m not a jot less amazed than you, Domnu Prodan, - the controllers’ capo hurried to assure.

\- Do I see Andrei Cebotari? – Marcel tensed.

\- I believe so, - the capo replied cautiously.

The next second the band on the screen rose into thin air and stayed there overhead, playing.

Everybody watched the six men speechlessly. Andrei Cebotari flew over the heads of the others, landed onto the drum and rushed to the fight. The Mafiosi saw the waves of shining magic, the soldiers fell and rose, and rose and fell, and this all useless battle that the Zdubs had experienced ran in front of their eyes. Nobody said a word. They watched the soldier cast his dirty spell, and then they heard the muffled sound of the music, again – half of the notes blurred, but enough to understand just what exactly was playing. The technician rushed headlong towards the projector, pushed the pause button furiously and covered the screen with his chest.

\- Enough of that, please, Domnu Lucescu, - he managed, staring at the controllers’ capo pleadingly.

\- You did the right thing, Petru, - Marcel reassured seriously. – What I definitely didn’t need today was the Almighty Trumpet… - he rubbed his palms together. - Now I have a plenty of questions to all of you, gentlemen. First of all, who, how, and why changed the programme of the Seventh Division? Then, what is this gang playing on the stage like there’s no tomorrow in front of my army? Why do they have Andrei Cebotari, Almighty Trumpet, and use magic? This is… obsolete! Magic, gentlemen, how come?! And they even made a grey soldier use a spell, what is this, I’m asking you, gentlemen?! Phenomenal! – he slammed the table with his fist. – I just lost my entire best division to a bunch of uncaught protester bastards who use magic and play music!

He ran his fingers through his hair and clenched his fists just to hold back the roar of despair. Marcel was frightened, like any human being he was frightened in front of the unknown. He raised his head sharply.

\- Those were all the questions to you, gentlemen. I need all the answers, I need them all as soon as possible. Look for the spies in our camp, send the spies to that goddamn village you couldn’t destroy. Of course if they don’t run away, which they better do, and then anyway I need them watched. You understand?

Dragoş stood up, feeling a sudden urge to be useful.

\- Domnu Prodan, with the magic the villagers and that musicians’ gang are twice dangerous. Maybe we should overlook the obsoleteness and start preparing the Army for fighting using spells as well?

\- First of all, this is not the magic you could learn, Dragoş, - Marcel dropped wearily. – They have the Power, which is a gift, and which is strange. This kind of magic is much unproved, and the magic taught is very dangerous. If the soldiers are not careful enough, we might lose more at preparations than we could at war, mind you. But I shall think about it. For now my order to all of you: no rush to the direction of that fortress. Not no rush – not a single move. If you have the variants of spies – bring them. Just keep preparing. You hear me? Sit around and make up for the Seventh Division. We must be ready. Gentlemen?

The capos stood up. Marcel rose in no hurry and nodded. The capos replied with a little bow.

\- Everyone is free, gentlemen. Dragoş, please stay, we have to discuss something alone.

The capos walked out of the door and in a minute the room was empty, except for Marcel Prodan at the head of the table, capo general trembling in anticipation, Petru the technician tinkering with the projector and two guardians at the door.

Marcel rose and pierced the capo with his stare. Dragoş didn’t dare say a word. The silence was pressing on him, but he stood there bravely. Marcel reached in his pocket and fished a little box out of it. The capo watched him in tension, leaning away unwillingly. Marcel scratched his arm.

\- Look, Dragoş, - he said calmly. – I always told you I was acting out of pure necessity. Can you guess the necessity now?

\- We… need to finally conquer the Eighth Country completely, - the capo managed.

\- Good thinking, - Marcel tapped Dragoş’s shoulder. – And what do we need first of all to do that?

\- You know better… - the capo took a tiny step back.

Marcel tilted his head, looking just a tiny bit disappointed.

\- Well, after all, you’re right, - he decided, fingers tinkering with the box. He finally opened it and took out a ring, wore it on his middle finger and admired his own hand. – Look at this toy. Isn’t it divine?

The ring was wide, beautifully and intricately carved, with a big green stone in the middle of it.

\- It is, - Dragoş hurried to agree.

\- After all, you know, I think your idea on the use of magic is quite right, - Marcel said after a pause. – Let me shake your hand and we shall work on it.

And with one barely noticeable move he turned the ring on his finger and pressed the stone. And the capo understood everything. He straightened and held his hand out for a handshake. He was thirty years old, and handsome, and full of strength, and he could blame only himself for that one minute’s forgetfulness.

\- Serving the No Name Empire! – he said bravely, and his voice didn’t even tremble.

Marcel narrowed his eyes. He would much rather this man beg for mercy, but he didn’t have the time for beautiful words to torture him.

\- Glad you understand me. Safe travels to you, Dragoş Ancel.

And he squeezed the capo’s hand. Dragoş pressed his lips together as he felt the sting. He sank to his knees, still holding Marcel Prodan’s hand in a fit of agony, then his softened body fell to the floor and his glassy eyes stared at the ceiling in last understanding sadness. Marcel freed his hand form the dead man in a gesture of pure disgust.

\- The man suggesting obsolete ideas should be treated in an old-fashioned way, - he said, quickly taking the ring off and hiding it in the box. – Though this toy is magnificent indeed. Such an old concept, such a modern solution… Petru!

The technician looked at the boss with something like fear in his eyes and straightened.

\- You’re afraid… - Prodan drawled. – You’re right to be afraid, Petru Ciobanu. Get rid of this one… oh wait, - he examined the technician, who froze, barely making a step forward. – I’ve changed my mind. Now I want you to look after the army. I’ve been watching you. We’ll find a better technician, but a better capo for today – I doubt. Did you listen carefully to our talk, Petru?

Petru was silent, not sure what to answer. Marcel nodded with a little smile.

\- Don’t be afraid. Here everyone should have ears. You’re good, keep it up, Ciobanu. I rely on you. Now go call someone to clean up, will you?

Petru flew out of the room. Marcel watched his back and smirked. But deep inside he was afraid, probably even more afraid than this boy whom he had just made a capo. If his power, his best division, was nothing for a bunch of musicians with magic…

Marcel walked out of the room. He had to have some whiskey to calm down his nerves. Biting his lips, the boss strutted down the corridor and disappeared behind the doors of the elevator.

***

It seemed like years had passed. Anatol was Mihai, Slava, and Romashka’s old friend, a hot head, a loud laugher – and the ladies’ pet. He was different from Andrei, he was his opposite. But that was probably what they needed now.

Everybody was quieter that day. Mihai’s face was unreadable. He took everything into his own hands immediately. He went in, slammed the door behind him and said only one word: ‘Work’.

And so they worked. Romashka thought that the new morning would be better. And he was right. Everybody wanted to forget, to drown all the sorrows of the past – not in drink, but in work. And they kept on. Only Anatolius was kidding around with his accordion he always carried around, singing stupid songs and trying to make everyone smile. Those were his ways, and, to be honest, probably the best ones in such a situation.

Valera was quiet – way too quiet, even considering what he probably felt. He took out the bandanna Andrei left him and wore it on his head. The workaholic Valerica woke up in him and the trumpeter hid inside himself.

Slava lived through that day trying his best to be happy. To laugh. To live. To burn. He was poking Romashka with the carpet jokes, he was shaking his head, he was playing as he could – but all until he got back to his house, late at night. He ran through the streets and stopped at the door with a slight smile, regaining his breath. Then went in – and finally dared take the smile off. He had his little place to hide. He clicked the switch, locked the door behind his back and leaned onto the wall.

He couldn’t.

It just didn’t feel right anymore.

He couldn’t stop thinking about the war. The war which was clearly to be. He sank down to the floor and ran his fingers through his hair. The short soft ginger locks crackled under his touch – those were probably the flames, but Sveatik didn’t pay attention. Andrei was in Rom. In Rom, fighting or preparing to fight, he was to lead the army, and they, here, in Moldovanshire were alone! Alone and helpless…

Sveatik exhaled. Examined his slightly in-toed feet and sighed. Ye-eah, he was the warrior. And he wanted so to be there with Andrei! But the hero told him to try – and maybe…

There was an unsure knock at the door. Sveatik wiped his face with his both hands, trying to wipe off all the worry he didn’t want to show anyone, and got up. With a quiet creak the door opened. Romashka smiled at the redhead unsurely.

\- Er… hey.

\- Yeah, - Sveatik replied absently. – Come in. Only be quiet. Want some beer? Or do you prefer tea today, you mystery man?

Roma hesitated. He glanced into the house over Sveatik’s shoulder and moved his shoulders under the ginger’s stare.

\- Well, a beer’d be nice, - he managed finally and stepped inside. Sveatik stared at him as he walked in and stopped unsurely.

\- You’re not here for a couple of beers, are you, - Sveatik said, not even asking. He knew the answer. And something rose from the bottom of his chest and made him fight a wish to just throw his friend out and slam the door.

Romashka turned to him and tilted his head a little.

\- Why not? – he said, trying to sound calm and confident.

Sveatik smirked wearily.

\- I’ve learned you, - he said a little sadly. – You worry about me. I’m okay. Satisfied? Now let’s drink a little, like we used to do it, or just go away. Deal?

Romashka looked down.

\- W… well. A couple of beers, mhm?

He glanced at Sveatik and smiled unsurely. The redhead shrugged and smiled back at him.

They spent some time together, talking about Andrei in Rom and Anatolius with the band, about life and love, drinking their beer slowly, with long, but not awkward, pauses, which only the best of friends can have. But Ryjik felt that something was different. Something was wrong. And that made him want to run away, run without stopping, without thinking, just run until he fell, his heart pounding in his throat, far away from here.

Romashka left when it was already dark. He cast a glance over his shoulder at Sveatik and it was so strange it made the ginger sick. He hurried to close the door. But when he was having a shower, he examined his face and body in the mirror carefully.

And didn’t notice any changes. Anything that made him seem weaker. That was the body of a strong young man. And he didn’t want all that wasted.

He slipped under the blanket beside the lady he loved. Looked at her, sleeping, moonlit. And sighed. She actually wasn’t holding him back, or anyhow tying him down. She knew it, and that was the plus. He snuggled up to her and closed his eyes.

The next day the sounds of people working outside woke him up at eight in the morning.

***

It was one of the new songs they were rehearsing. They were all trying their best, but Sveatik was too deep in thoughts. He didn’t like the music. The power running through his body needed to be thrown out – and he didn’t know where. He played half-heartedly, and he wasn’t even surprised when he suddenly felt burning fury curling up in his stomach and quickly rising up towards the heart and higher, to pound in his temples and make his throat sore and muscles tense. Such a fury was unfamiliar to him, so bright red it was. He could see it when he closed his eyes. It was overfilling him. He almost wanted to kill somebody. The overall feeling of unfairness of everything was replaced with this anger, with this madness – and Ryjik didn’t want it to stop. It felt so natural for the power to become fierce…

Suddenly Mihai stopped, pushed Romashka and just waved his arms fiercely, forcing everyone to stop. He was shouting, but only when the last sound was gone they heard him.

\- Stop. That. NOW!

Romashka looked up at his friend. The bassist was so angry he was almost scared, something in his black eyes was burning quite unusually. Roma caught his arm.

\- Misha, hey. Mihai, man, take it easy! What’s wrong?

Mihai didn’t answer. He freed his arm from Roma in one sharp move and stepped at Sveatik. The ginger adjusted the broken glasses on the bridge of his nose and raised his chin a little.

\- I’m listening carefully, - he said, and it sounded way blunter than he meant it to. But he didn’t try and clear his throat to somehow make it look like an accidental slip of the voice. He looked right at the bassist.

Mihai tilted his head to the side a little and looked at Sveatik carefully.

\- You know exactly what I’m fuckin’ talking about, - he said with a little more pressure. – Who knows better than you?

\- I don’t, - Sveatik said in the same blunt way. Now it was even entertaining him. Mihai gritted his teeth.

\- You aren’t even fuckin’ trying to be in the mood, - he said quietly. – To feel the music – you aren’t even trying, shit, Slava! This is different, it doesn’t even sound, for fuck’s sake, what’s wrong? It sounds like all the talent you’ve had is long gone, it’s not so, Slava, I know. What are you doing, you’re just ruining everything with your shit!

Sveatik smirked.

\- Ruining everything? Oh really? Sounds all the same to me now – what you’re turning our music into. This bullshit we have.

Not a single muscle on Mihai’s face moved. He stepped at Sveatik the same way, without any more of an emotion noticeable.

\- I’m turning, ha? – he said strangely calmly. – Are you too special to trust me any more?

\- That’s not a fuckin’ matter of trust, Misha, - Sveatik said quite venomously. He took his guitar off and put it away – and straightened. He felt the power overwhelm him and didn’t fight it. – I just don’t like what you’re doing any more. No, I just think it’s pure condensed bullshit. What you’re doing with our style. You’re so bossy, I don’t even…

Mihai straightened, too. He was thinner, with that dark mop of madman’s black curls on his head and tattoos around his upper arms. He was always trying his best to be badass. He was probably weaker and he felt it quite painfully inside. The born strategist, the brain, he was never such a good fighter. And the power radiating from Ryjik now was enormous – and that scared him, the diagnostician, he always felt the power vibrations the first. What Andrei said about the fire guys was pounding in his head. The power turning black. That mustn’t be. Mihai gritted his teeth. The word choice must be careful. VERY careful. But his heart was pumping. The Zdubs were watching them carefully and quietly.

\- What do I do to improve the existing situation? – he asked calmly, but not mockingly, controlling his voice excellently. Sveatik glared at him from behind the cracked lens.

\- That’s a good question, - he said expressly thoughtfully. – Let see… oh, I get it now. One of us should GET THE HELL OUTTA HERE!

There was a loud drum sound. Anatol rose.

\- Then get the fuck out of my face! – he exclaimed.

Mihai raised his hand preventively.

\- Tolik, hush.

\- Like hell I will! – and Anatol kicked the chair and headed at Sveatik. – If somebody really needs to get outta here, it’s you, honey bee!

He pointed his finger at Sveatik. The ginger smirked.

\- Oh good, - he said. – Excellent.

\- Shut your cakehole! – Anatolius snapped. – You don’t talk like this to my friends, understand me? Either you apologize now or get outta my face!

\- Good, - Sveatik repeated. – I think you have forgotten I am your friend as well. Ah, it’s me who has forgotten! – he slapped his forehead theatrically. – You’re a substitute! A fresh substitute for the one irreplaceable! Oh man, how could I forget! You haven’t yet experienced all there is to experience with Mihai, oh, stupid me…

\- GET LOST!!!

Anatol yelled that at the top of his voice. His face became red. Mihai stepped preventively between him and Sveatik.

\- Ryjik, - he said, trying to be calm. – Ryjik, you don’t know what the fuck you’re saying. I know what’s going on, and it is a big shit. But the power is in your hands. You can control it, you can make it what you wish. You’ve been a rare bird amongst the fire guys for years and years – do you remember what Andrei said? You aren’t even burning now, Slava. Stop. Do what you fuckin’ must. We all know what you are, and you’re not what you’re trying to show off like now.

\- Listen, dear boy, - Sveatik said venomously, squinting at Mihai, – don’t you tell me what I must. If Anatol wants me so to get lost – here you are, Anatolius! Catch!

And he turned in no hurry and went out of the studio. And slammed the door behind his back.

The silence deafened them. Valerica jumped towards the door, but Mihai caught his arm, still quick enough to catch the moment’s motion of the red flash of Andrei’s bandanna on the young Martian’s head.

\- Let him go, - he said quietly. – There’s nothing we can do right now.

Valerica stopped on his way and watched the door. He raised his hand unconsciously and started scratching his arm hard. Mihai took the Martian’s wrist in his hand and squeezed slightly. Valera turned to him and looked into his eyes – and his greenish grey stare was full of fear and doubt. Mihai released the guy’s wrist and nodded.

\- I know, - he said quietly.

***

It was only when the door was closed behind him that Sveatik woke up. It was a flash, like that time he woke up in between life and death: his mind exploded, became endless as space, and then suddenly shrank back into his skull – a too little skull. Sveatik gasped, squeezed his temples with his hands and sank down to the floor.

The rage had seemingly sucked all the strength out of his body – the uncontrollable rage, and he didn’t even know why he suddenly got so angry. It felt okay then, completely okay, but only now he realized what he had actually said to his friends.

His best buddies.

His fraţilor.

He was scared to confess to himself that a few moments ago he didn’t feel like their brother at all. He knew if he was just a little more angry he’d kill them all. And he wouldn’t even feel sorry. Who was that – the man he’d turned into? Why did it have to be him?

\- Fu-u-u-u-uck! Fuck, fuck, fuck me!

Sveatik closed his eyes tight, biting his lips, trying to hold a cry inside. He felt completely worn out. And, even more than that, he felt like a traitor. Mihai’s words sounded in his head: ‘You’ve been a rare bird amongst the fire guys for years and years – do you remember what Andrei said?’ ‘You aren’t even burning now, Slava’. ‘Stop. Do what you must’.

\- Yes… - he whispered. – Yes, Misha, I must. I must…

He thanked heavens the house was empty at the time and he didn’t have to explain anything to anyone. He leaned down lower and lower as the realization came: his power started becoming black inside him.

\- I’m a fucker, fucker, why?!

He almost felt that burning ink blackness pouring down the inside of his chest. No, not black any more – that was just blood pulsing in his veins. The blackness flooded back, like the tide, and left him empty, red and vulnerable on the inside. Sveatik squeezed his temples tighter. Now was the time. He totally must go.

But God, how does he stop that?!

He didn’t know how long it was. He was just sitting there, curled up on the floor, hiding his nose between his knees, burning with fear and shame.

A knock at the door came together with the rhythm of his mad heartbeat, so first he didn’t even raise his head. But it repeated in a moment or two – and this time it was so dissonant that it made Sveatik start. He jumped to his feet, his heart pumping even louder. The knock repeated – not a millisecond faster, not a little less patient. Just as mechanical. Sveatik wiped his red face with his both hands and hurried to the door.

Then hesitated. What if he wouldn’t be able to control himself? What if once he opened the door he’d basically throw himself on whoever it was behind it – and kill them?.. He leaned onto the door, biting at his lower lip. He was scared. Scared as hell. Because it didn’t feel like him. And such a sudden and unexpected change was painful.

The knock repeated.

\- Slava? Slava, open the door. Slava, you hear me?

That was Mihai’s voice from behind the door. Sveatik closed his eyes tight. No, no way in the world would he let Mihai in and thus put him in danger.

\- Slava.

The voice didn’t sound worried, or scared, or angry – rather persuading. It was completely in Mihai’s style to be this calm outside of the studio. Sveatik clenched his fist so tight his nails stuck into his palm.

\- Slava, - the voice called again. – Just listen. I know you’re there. You have to open. I have something that will help you. Something good for you. You need it.

Sveatik raised his head and looked at the door in hesitation. Mihai seemingly felt his piercing stare.

\- Open, - he reassured. – Go. Everything will be okay, I promise. You can trust me, can’t you, man?

\- Yes… I can… - Sveatik whispered under his breath and reached for the doorknob.

The lock clicked and Sveatik straightened, ready to make himself run away despite anything if and when the rage came back. He pushed the door and stepped back, tensed, ready for everything. The door creaked open slowly. Slava saw Mihai’s thin frame, his auburn curls with metal blue sparkle, his black eyes, looking calmly and softly. He listened to himself. The rage wasn’t there. Mihai took a step towards him and, purely instinctively, Slava stepped back. Mihai took another step calmly. And another. The ginger was backing off.

\- The house isn’t endless, you’ll anyway have to reach the wall at some point, - Mihai remarked with a soft smile. There wasn’t a trace of mockery in his voice.

Slava kept backing off slowly. Mihai tilted his head to the side a little and looked at him as at a beloved naughty child. Slava’s shoulder blades touched the wall. Mihai raised his eyebrows a little and smiled. ‘I told you’, - the look on his face clearly said. He didn’t hurry. Sveatik closed his eyes tight and inhaled slowly, pressing his back into the solid wall, as if wanting to filter through it. Mihai came close to him. Sveatik could hear his quiet even breath. He froze. He didn’t feel a trace of that rage, but he was still afraid to open his eyes. Mihai sighed.

\- Look at me, man, - he said soothingly. – Everything will be okay. You won’t even have time to get mad. I have something to help you. Look at me, please.

Sveatik shook his head quickly. He wouldn’t.

\- Please.

Sveatik shook his head again, more fiercely. Mihai sighed. The next moment his fingertip touched Slava’s forehead, then the tip of his nose and, finally, his lips.

Barely a moment’s touch each. Mihai’s skin was cool. He seemingly entered some code, familiar to him.

And Slava suddenly felt like he didn’t own himself. That was a strange feeling. It wasn’t like he was controlled, or was out of his body. He just didn’t own himself. He was calm like he’d never been before. He opened his eyes and looked at Mihai. The leader smiled and closed his eyes – and pressed his hand to the middle of Sveatik’s chest.

That moment he was forced back to understanding himself as himself. Mihai’s touch was full of warm power, of that slightly glowing power that had run through his body then, in front of the Grey Army – and it was back. Mihai opened his eyes wide and looked into Sveatik’s – no, not in the eyes, he was looking right in his soul past his eyes. And his voice sounded in the ginger’s head. Not calm any more – this one was anxious, passionate – almost scared: ‘Don’t you dare! Don’t you dare go now and leave like this!’ Sveatik could only nod.

And then Mihai suddenly recoiled from him, seemingly ripping his hand off his chest, squeezed his temples, shook his head – and ran away. And Sveatik was left there, all red inside, his heart pumping, together with blood filling his body with slightly glowing power.

In the bathroom he examined his own naked body carefully. And then looked in his reflection’s eyes. Something was different, and he felt it. But his hair was burning brighter than usual. That was a good sign.

***

Days rolled slowly and strangely heavily, forming into weeks and months. The works on the wall rebuilding alternated with endless rehearsals and recordings. They appeared on the secret television and radio stations, keeping letting everybody know the movement still existed, that not everything was lost. They were around encouraging. They slept much less. Work, work, work – work on the fortified wall renewing, work for the album, work for the people – they kept working.

Slava’s life turned into one long struggle to overcome the rage.

The fury always came unexpectedly. It was his, which was the scariest thing. It went purely and only from his heart, and he could almost feel his blood turn black. But it always felt natural – no matter how he would regret it afterwards. Sveatik started to become always tensed and ready, he started preparing himself for another attack.

First they were daily, even more that once a day – and always stronger than Sveatik’s will. He broke the drum once, he hit Valerica in the face and ran away. Another time he almost broke Romashka’s guitar on his head. All six other fellas – with a good man guitarman Vicosh – ran to hold him. But as he practiced and created music, they started becoming slowly rarer and rarer. He was now thinner, his hair always disheveled, in broken glasses and t-shirts hanging on him like sacks – but he felt better. He even seemed to start loving his lady more. At least it seemed to him he was more inclined to settle down now.

Sometimes Mihai would come, open Sveatik – like then, with a hand on his chest – and help him. He always chose the time there was nobody home, or when they were the last to leave the rehearsal room. He rarely needed his secret code any more. And he left the warm glowing power after him on the inside of the ginger’s chest – the power Sveatik lacked and needed more than anything. And he was grateful for that help from a friend.

He almost learned to control it and the line of concern stopped appearing between Mihai’s eyebrows. The fear and pain in Valerica’s eyes was soon gone, the Martian started smiling again – after a big warm hug they gave each other when Valerica came one evening, adorable in his reckless trust after what he had seen. He was warm, and his heart was racing, and his lips were slightly parted and trembled, and his green eyes were big, big. And that was when Sveatik felt how good it was – to be able to control the rage. He just looked at his friend and simply drew him into a hug. The bodily reassurance was enough for Valerica. They spent that evening together, Valera, Sveatik and the lady Sveatik loved, talking and drinking and laughing and watching something on TV – and that was the mark of peace. Their trust was restored. Sveatik was forgiven. Vitea kept watching him a little fatherly, but the wrinkles in the corners of his eyes were a good sign. Anatol’s glances at him were still suspicious sometimes, but all in all everything seemed to be quite calm and peaceful. There were families – wives and kids, there were birthdays and special dates – the life seemed to have come to normal. He ate grapefruits, he said weird things and walked around like a scarecrow, smirking and talking and being the Sveatik he’d always been. And everything would be okay, he would perhaps stop thinking even of leaving – if Romashka wasn’t there.

Oh, Romashka… Sveatik would always look away meeting his stare. The pain in the best friend’s eyes was the worst – and Ryjik was afraid to leave him. Romashka didn’t hold speeches. Romashka wouldn’t come to the redhead’s hut for a beer or a talk. He would just cast a glance or say a word – and his overwhelming pain would fill Sveatik’s heart.

While the usual warm power in his blood was red, and the fury was black, this ennui coloured his heart blue. Blue like the waters of the sea, freezing and deep and heavy. And Sveatik felt suddenly cold. It was unbearable to stay – and he was scared to leave. Maybe it was foolish – sometimes he felt he was ready, and he had to – but then he met Roma’s stare – and gave up. There wasn’t any fear to leave the house and the family. Nothing there could stop him, sometimes Sveatik felt kinda guilty, and sometimes kinda thankful, but he could do nothing. And Romashka was the rope around his neck.

And the worst thing was, it wasn’t intentional. He had once tried to talk to Roma. The words he had said still rang in his head.

‘I don’t wanna hold you back, Ryjik, dear. I’m just… scared. I’m scared of what might happen. Every night, every single goddamn night before going to sleep I keep on imagining what can happen to you if you’re away – and what can happen to you and to us if you stay. I just can’t help it. I return to those thoughts over and over again. My wife asks me what’s wrong. Everybody looks at me. And I can’t even explain, because I’m just a fool. And I think of both ways. And I don’t know what’s worse. I don’t want to stand in your way, and I wanna work, but Slava, you see…’

His voice broke and he pressed his fingers to his eyes. And all Sveatik had in the end was his heart wringing, his eyes full of tears and a warm friend by his side – a living friend, a dear friend, who was trying hard not to cry. A friend who loved him. His frate.

‘That’s why I stopped talking to ya’, - Roma managed. ‘I was always afraid I would end up like this. I’m sorry, Ryjik… I’m so so sorry…’

He choked and Slava tapped his back.’

‘‘Ts okay’.

‘I won’t ever again, if it makes you feel any better, I’ll shut up, like, forever’.

‘You don’t have to’.

‘Do what you want, whatever you want, whatever makes you feel better, don’t mind me!’

‘Do you think I would actually mind you if I was able not to, frate?’

He tried to smirk. Roma sniffed and leaned onto him for a moment.

‘Whatever’, - he said in a second, wiping his dry cheeks with his wet palms. ‘If you say ‘ts okay, it’s okay. You just know that… there’s always home. And your home’s here. And we’re always waiting. Wherever you go.’

That night he was sure he would leave. And in the morning he was sitting on the porch with a coffee, waiting for the sun to rise.

Shewoke up too early. Came out of the hut to look for him and just sat down beside him. Looked at the greenish skies and asked what was wrong. And he could only shrug and put his arm around her waist. Because it was just that that night he gave up again. One more time he didn’t have courage.

***

That was another evening the new old Sveatik was sitting in the little kitchen of his hut quietly, thinking of nothing. It was about ten o’clock. She’d been inviting him with her, wherever she was going, but he didn’t want to go anywhere that evening. He had persuaded her to go alone. Now he was sitting in solitude, as he wanted it. The tea’d grown cold and his head empty. Everything was quiet, only the clock on the wall kept ticking.

The doorbell rang.

Sveatik raised his head slowly, collecting his thoughts. That could be whoever. He sipped his tea and stood up calmly. The ring repeated and Slava sighed and hurried, limping a little on his leg that’d got numb, towards the door. He only turned the knob and opened it a little bit when a hurricane rushed into the house, pushed him inside and slammed the door.

Slava adjusted his glasses and focused a little, taken aback. Valerica exhaled at his face, pouring the minty smell of his chewing gum all over his friend and taking a moment to examine him. He was panting, his hair was disheveled. He glanced around in fear and shoved Sveatik into the kitchen. The ginger just backed up and sniffed, relying on Valerica’s common sense.

The young Martian grasped his shoulders, turned him fiercely and pressed his back to the wall.

\- Slava, - he whispered desperately, - Ryjik, dear, please, do you need any kind of help from me? Tell me, tell me, I’ll do anything! Want me to play you invisibility? I’ll make you a cassette, or, I don’t know, a something with all the tracks you might need in your life out there, you’ll just plug your headphones in or play it out loud; or I will help you go away unnoticed, or anything, anything at all – whatever you wish! Just please, please… you must go, Slavchik. That’s all that’s needed. That’s what they said, and… Ryjik, you see?

Valerica was searching desperately for the tiniest sparkle of understanding in the redhead’s eyes, though his own face showed everything but understanding and confidence. Ryjik’s lips moved barely noticeably, God knows what he wanted – to say something, to inhale, to make a face. He just licked his lips – as if trying to hide the lower one, the incarnation of his stubborn soul, but it shot out back again. He closed his eyes tight and shook his head, shaking off the haste, and raised his head again to look at Valerica. The flames ran across his hair with a crackle.

\- He-ey, - he drawled and freed himself softly from the young Martian’s hands. Valerica quite visibly fell, dropping his hands down. The tense atmosphere of mutual misunderstanding filled the room. Valera looked away.

\- Eh… - was all he could manage. Then suddenly gasped and rushed back at Sveatik. – Wa… wait, Ryjik, I mean, it’s…

\- Shhh… - Slava’s hand stopped right in front of the Martian’s mouth. – It’s okay. You know I’ve been thinking about it. It’s just that… - he grinned bitterly and ruffled his own hair. – To be honest, I wanted to say you were the last person I’d expect to hear that from… but then there go your exact words: ‘that’s what they said’. I think there’s something you have to tell me? Sit down, man. There are things to talk about. I think.

Valerica swallowed hard and bit his lower lip. Sveatik headed in no hurry towards the table, sat down and gave his favourite smirk, trying to reassure his mate in his own way. Valerica didn’t move. His hand reached for his upper arm as he managed quietly:

\- Slavka… wanna know what? I’m scared.

Sveatik’s smile fell.

\- Lera, stop scratching, - he said with pressure. Valera glanced at his arm and shook his hand quickly, as if it was wet.

\- Yeah, okay, - he dropped. – But, Slava, I’m really scared. We’ve just had a little conference out there – I, Vitea and Mihai. Well, the remaining magic ones, y’see.

\- And they said something, right? You were discussing me, - Sveatik summed up. Valera nodded and looked up at him.

\- I know, we probably shouldn’t have and all that…

\- Doesn’t matter, - the ginger rose and started walking up and down the room. – Tell me what they said. Just tell me.

Valerica bit his lower lip again.

\- Well, you know, - he began carefully in a short while, - it all started with Mihai saying you were ready. Ready to go, like, I mean, you know… - he stumbled on his own words and exhaled and closed his mouth. Sveatik could almost hear his tangled thoughts piling there inside his skull and making him confused. He decided to help:

\- Well, there. Mihai said I was ready. And you just blindly said, like, ‘yeah, he is’?

Valerica sniffed.

\- Of course not! I mean, I stood up immediately, you know me, but then I just saw them both silent, and, see, you could just feel they knew something. And I was like: ‘What?’ And Mihai was like: ‘Sit down, man, we have something to tell you’.

\- That’s the interesting part, - Sveatik smirked. – So what did they have to tell you? That I have to go for my own and everybody’s good? Was that what they said?

Valerica gave the ginger a long look, so heavy it made him stop in front of the Martian and tense.

\- Wha’? – he finally dared. – Internal problems?

Valerica swallowed and looked down. Then he opened his mouth and dropped only one word.

\- Roma.

And Sveatik’s heart fell.

\- Roma? What’s with Roma?

Valerica sighed heavily.

\- This was about my reaction. I didn’t know what to think. Mihai said he kinda scanned him… I don’t know how it is…

\- ‘Ts alright, I know, - Sveatik hurried to reassure. – Yeah, and then?

\- And he said that it’s quite complicated, but Roma’s power is beginning to turn into something – and it could be either blue or black, now he can not tell. And, you know, he said that the best cure for Roma with his diagnosis is being away from you. I stood up again, I mean, you can understand me, I kept asking: ‘Why?’ And Vitea said: ‘Because when Sveatik is there, the other side of the power feeds on doubt and on grief. When he’s gone those will be replaced by void – maybe. But that’s better. Sveatik’s power is in danger as well, and doesn’t your own face know it! The blackness is born by doubt and fear first of all. We can’t leave them two any doubt. It would be better’.

Sveatik sat down on the chair, ruffled his short light ginger locks again and took a deep breath.

\- …so then? – he asked quietly, still hoping for something.

\- I surely needed a proof, - Valerica confessed. – So I went to Roma. He wasn’t home, but Lena (his wife) said he went to the river, and so I went and found him there. Man, if you only saw him! – Valerica moved his shoulders uneasily at the memory. – His eyes were simply empty… but then he saw me and seemed more alive or something, so I sat down near him to try and maybe make it better for him… anyhow better! But he just inhaled – a little bit, like to say something and…

Valerica looked down, licking his lips. Sveatik tilted his head.

\- Wha’?

\- He hyperventilated so hard, - Valerica raised his eyebrows. – I… don’t know, people don’t hyperventilate this badly. And I tried to calm him down somehow – I don’t know why… and he told me – as soon as he could – that it wasn’t the first time. That he kinda had different problems breathing. Either not enough air, or hyperventilation after every second word… just, you know, jumping… and Lenka… she doesn’t look so good. He’s just making everybody around suffer, as it seems to me.

He made a pause, considering whether what he’d just said sounded right. Then he continued:

\- You know, I just ran to Mihai and Vitea, and asked them immediately how they explain that. And they said it was all connected with him, you, doubt and fear. Weird, if you ask me. Breathing problems… but then they just said: ‘You go tell him’. Imagine: they just said that to me, looking me in the eye…

\- Mihai said, I believe? – Sveatik scoffed.

Valera looked away and back at ginger again.

\- They said… - he repeated quietly. And, with pain and at the same time warmth, Sveatik realized that Valera was always the same – the faithful, big-hearted creature, who would always believe in his loved ones. No matter what he said, no matter how hot-headed he was and how blatantly true. He would always be there. The ginger looked away.

\- You’re afraid of me, - he said quietly, half-questioningly. – Mihai must be thinking we’ll all have something wrong with us if I stay. Maybe he’s afraid for himself, as you said…

\- Don’t say that, - Valerica interrupted.

Sveatik glanced at him wearily.

\- Valera, I understand… - he started, but Valera suddenly fell to his knees and looked at him desperately.

\- Slava, - he said quietly. – Look at me, please look at me.

He was trying to catch the ginger’s look. Sveatik smirked weakly and looked into the sincere greyish green eyes of the one who could disarm millions with a single smile and yet didn’t know what to do with a bunch of dear friends.

\- I’m here, - he said softly. – Just stand up, will you?

Valerica shook his head.

\- No, you listen to me. Look at me. Don’t you ever think that it’s easy for me to say this. Or that it’s easy for any one of us. I know people, Slav. I know Misha and Vitea. I saw their eyes. And man… it’s hard for them, too. It hurts. And you must know that it’s terrible to know that someone of our family has to leave… but man, if you only let me explain how I feel about it now… it’s all only because of Romashka. He’s our man, too. He’s your bestest mate, you know that.

Sveatik nodded and smiled again.

\- Man, I understand everything, - he said quietly. – Don’t give me reasons…

\- The worst thing is, I don’t even believe in those, - Valerica confessed with sudden painful sincerity, looking deep into the ginger’s eyes. – I want to give you a thousand reasons to stay. I wanna – heck, I wanna hang on your neck, not letting you go anywhere! I don’t want to lose another part of my family for an indefinite term! Ryjik, frate, what I’d give to make you stay! Or, if nothing else, to go after you!

Slava smiled at him and stood up slowly. His heart wrung and he understood just how much would be lost once he left. Valerica jumped to his feet after his friend and looked at him with that look of a younger brother – a trustful look. A pained look. Sveatik sighed and drew him in a hug.

\- I’d take you with me, frate, - he said quietly, feeling the young Martian’s warm tight embrace and tapping his back, - but I don’t wanna lose any one of you either. I don’t wanna be responsible. I don’t wanna bear – and this is, believe me, a heavy thing for my shoulders – the responsibility for any one’s life but my own. While I’m away. While I’m fulfilling my destiny to be a warrior. But I’ll be there invisibly. I’ll be with you.

\- Don’t say it like you’re dead already, - Valerica managed, releasing Sveatik and stepping away. – Don’t…

\- I won’t die, - Ryjik said quietly, and for that moment he was more than sure. – I promise you, Valerică Fără Frică, that it’ll be okay. That one day I’ll be back, absolutely alive, and a hero. And I’ll see you even greater heroes, and we’ll be together again. I promise.

\- Tell your children those fairytales! – Valerica managed, pushing him away. But Ryjik heard it in his voice – that reassurance was good for him. – And do me a favour, - Valerica added in a second. – Leave a note. The best if it will be for Roma. And please – be quiet. I don’t wanna watch your back. I’ll record you everything you need. Invisibility. I don’t know, Speed, Strength – I know all the melodies. You just say so. And go. Not letting any one of us know.

Sveatik smiled softly.

\- Yeah, - he said quietly. – I will need some help. Thank you, man. Thank you.

***

That night when she came, she found him in bed. He closed his eyes and pretended to sleep. He heard her lean to look over him, then walk away quietly. He heard the sounds of a shower and imagined her washing her beautiful body calmly. He heard her go out in a little while. She walked quietly into the room and climbed under the banked beside him – and pressed her back to his bare back. She was tired. She was warm. And Sveatik felt how fragile it all was.

She was just a lady who loved him, and the lady he loved. Loved in his passionate way of a fire guy. Of course she knew he was amongst the ones who fought the Grey Army and defeated it. They were all celebrities, but the war menace influenced people that way they wouldn’t draw much attention to the ones they love. She saw him as a human first of all, not as a hero. He loved her for that. And she was only human herself – he felt her turn around behind him. She knew he had some kinda power, but she didn’t know of all the pain it was bringing him. She knew they were arguing, and she knew they were working hard, and blamed those reasons for Sveatik’s worn out look. And she didn’t need to know. In fact, he suddenly felt, she probably didn’t need him at all. Because the war was coming. And he wasn’t the one whom you would wait for…

He turned to her and kissed her forehead. She opened her eyes.

\- You’re not sleeping?

\- M-m.

\- Sleep. You look terrible.

\- I know…

\- I love you. Sleep.

She snuggled up to him.

\- I love you, too, - he whispered, and closed his eyes, breathing her in.

***

Roman must have slept that entire night in his armchair. That was his first thought when he understood how uncomfortable he felt and how numb his entire body had become. He sighed and opened his eyes.

His dear Lenka must have covered him with a blanket, for he didn’t remember wrapping himself in it. In the evening he was sitting in that armchair reading – or rather looking at the book, his thoughts wandering away somewhere – and fell asleep right there. Lena-Lena, she decided not to wake him up. Roman stood up and stretched himself. His body desperately needed a shower.

The water was pleasant. Romashka smiled into the refreshing jets. He had a hope at least this morning would be good. There’d been a lot of mess and trouble, but he’d started calming down. Sveatik was looking better. Everybody was working as a team, harder than ever, and it was good. That was what they needed. Valerica was constantly wearing the red bandanna Andrei had given him, and seemed happier. Vitea’s smile had returned. Mihai was serious, as always, but the line of concern wouldn’t appear between his eyebrows every once in a while. His smile, so rare and precious, was back. Anatolius fit perfectly into their team, he was always there, funny, singing and laughing. And Romashka found a hope. They started gathering again – for a couple of beers and a talk on windy winter’s nights – or going out all together, with families – no, they were one, they were a big Zdubofamily, as once before… he smiled at his thoughts into the pouring water. Everything would certainly be okay. At that moment he was sure.

He sloshed out of the bathroom barefoot, in his only underwear, leaving a trail of big wet footprints. He was feeling good – finally. He jumped into his jogging trousers, slipped his feet into warm striped socks – he never wore them out of home or this quiet backstreet, - threw on a tee, a jacket and a warm coat. His big trainers were thrown carelessly by the door. Romashka tied them quickly and opened the door, letting the chill air in for a second before jumping outside and into coldness entirely. He closed the door behind his back quickly and quietly. He didn’t want his girls cold or waken up so early.

The beginning of the winter was cold and snowless. Romashka jumped a little up and down, then was about to do a couple of crouches, when something drew his attention.

A cassette. It was lying on his porch like there was nothing wrong. Romashka frowned a little. There was something about that cassette that he didn’t like at all, and he wasn’t sure what it was. He stood up and came up to it.

When he noticed that a cassette was actually holding a folded piece of squared paper, his worry grew stronger. He crouched over it and looked at it piercingly. ‘What are you doing here?’ – he asked inside. He didn’t know why he would even think that. The cassette was surely silent. Its surface was clean, no stickers with inscriptions, no anything. ‘What are you doing here in my life?’ The cassette was silently mocking at him. The wind played with the light corners of the squared paper, but couldn’t take it away. The cassette in its transparent case was holding it okay. Romashka looked around. There was nobody there, everything was quiet – and what would he expect? He glanced at the thing again.

There was clearly something written on the other side of the paper, but he couldn’t distinguish what. The worry curled up in his abdomen, it was heavy and wouldn’t let go. Romashka bit his lower lip. ‘Okay then. I believe you’re here on purpose’…

And he took the cassette and the paper and stood up.

To a passer-by he would probably look like a simple young man picking up the mail – no matter that quite unusual – on his porch and going back home to check it. But Romashka’s heart was racing. He regretted picking up the letter immediately. He closed the door behind his back. His fingers were trembling. He was afraid, not even knowing himself of what. But at the same time – he was eager to know. He couldn’t wait in darkness. He dropped the cassette carelessly onto the cabinet and unfolded the squared paper.

And his heart fell.

In Sveatik’s shorthand writing the letter said: ‘Dear Roma’.

Romashka looked through the crooked lines. The letter bristled with black spots and crossed out undistinguishable lines. His friend was worried, he was in a hurry. Roma’s heart was pumping somewhere in his throat. He looked at the first line again.

Dear Roma

Shit, what a terrible beginning! Damn it, Roma, I cannot write goodbye letters, don’t blame me, it was all Valerica’s idea to write you, and I’m honestly one shitty writer. And anyway you already understand everything, I don’t know why I want so to throw all that’s in my head onto this paper. But, man, before I start all the talk, let’s state one thing now and for sure: if you’re reading this, I’m gone.

Romashka crumpled the paper in his hand, jumped into the boots and ran out – towards the gate. He slammed the door behind his back, not even caring for anything any more. He was running desperately, panting, wheezing, almost falling, grasping at God knows what desperate hope.

He flew through the streets. The cold wind hit him in the face, but Romashka didn’t pay any attention to it. There, there was the gate – and the figure by it. It was barely understandable who that was – in the baggy jeans and a hoodie everybody would look the same. The man was checking something in a big brown backpack. A hot breath broke out of Romashka’s chest.

\- Slavka!

The man turned to him. The long dark curls fell framing his pale face with bluish bristle, he reached back to hide them all back into the hood. He smiled slightly and exhaustedly.

\- Hey there Roma.

Romashka slowed down from running to pace and stopped in front of Vicosh – and put his hands on his knees, worn out. He didn’t even know what to do anymore, where to look, what to think. Vicosh sighed and zipped up the backpack. Roma didn’t see his face.

\- Slava went away, you know? – he said quietly and thoughtfully.

Roma could only let out an exhausted, pained moan. Vicosh sighed again.

\- He went away quite a while ago. You won’t catch him anyway. He was gone at sunrise. Gone with the night, hah…

There was an uneasy pause. Roma didn’t say anything. His head was empty and heavy. Vicosh sniffed, gathering his thoughts.

\- You know… - he said finally, - he didn’t want to go, Rom.

Romashka closed his eyes for a second. Then straightened and looked at Vicosh, squeezing the crumpled paper in his hand.

\- Oh yes? And why did he leave, then?!

Something was suddenly on fire inside of him. His eyes sparkled. Vicosh raised his hand preventively.

\- Shhh. I’m not to blame, man. Calm down for a moment. I know how it feels, I swear.

Romashka sniffed and bit his lower lip. He kept silent. Vicosh nodded and smiled slightly, without a slightest trace of joy.

\- Listen, man… he told me he had left you a note, but he asked me kindly to wait for you here. I’m leaving, too, you know? Yeah, don’t say anything, I know – another musician lost for the group, perhaps another friend lost for the family of Zdob Şi Zdub… and I’m sorry. But, just like Slava, I feel like I’m more needed away.

\- How in the word was he more needed somewhere than here? – Romashka managed through gritted teeth. – How, ha, Vicosh?! You tell me! – his trembling finger pointed at the middle of Vicosh’s chest. – What in the word did he have to say to explain this? What in the world…

Vicosh put his hand on Roma’s shoulder.

\- Romka, - he interrupted calmly. – Rom. Quiet. He left you a letter, after all. A whole damn letter, he said he’d been working on it all night long. He wasn’t actually happy, or free, or anyhow willing to go. He was rather… scared, Rom. I’ll be honest. But at the same time he was courageous. As usual. You sure know his reckless courage. I haven’t been with you for long, but I actually had time to notice… and also I noticed something was wrong with him. Something… like, inside him. I don’t know how to explain that…

\- And it’s too hard to explain for you to fully understand, - Romashka muttered darkly. – It’s none of anyone’s business. It’s our group. I thought it was our blessing – and I’m afraid it’ll turn out to be our curse. As you’re leaving, you don’t need to know. The mechanism is broken, like Mihai could say. But you know what? I don’t give a damn about the powers and all that jazz, man. I don’t give a damn. I just…

And he choked on the words and looked away, suddenly stooped, thin, boyish. The wind played with his long hair and let go. Vicosh tapped his shoulder.

\- I don’t know what to say, - he admitted. – I just wanna say ‘hold on’, or ‘stay strong’ because, like, that’s all you can wish a friend when leaving in such a time. But it’s a shit to say. Yet – live on. Take care. And read that letter, okay?

Romashka sniffed.

\- G’bye, Vicosh from Transylvania, - he said quietly, looking somewhere just above the man’s head, and held his hand out for a handshake.

Vicosh shrugged slightly and shook his hand. Then leaned in a little and tapped his back. He searched for Roma’s look, but didn’t catch it and just looked away. He picked up his backpack and adjusted it over his shoulder.

\- Goodbye, - he said, and sudden pain sounded in his voice. – Have fun.

And he jumped up and slipped his slender body through the wide hole right beside the gate. Romashka hurried towards the hole and leaned onto the wall, looking out at Vicosh. The man didn’t turn back. He stopped for a second, but then just thrust his hands into his pockets and walked away. Romashka watched him until the last glimpse of his shape disappeared. Then stood straight, letting go of the wall, turned his back to it and headed slowly home. His head and heart were perfectly empty.

He turned right on his way only instinctively. He chose the always empty, narrow streets despite the early morning, heading for the studio. His own key was in the pocket of his coat – he always forgot it in the pockets. He opened the door, walked in and locked himself in the studio, leaving the key in the hole. He didn’t need anybody to walk in.

He sat down onto the carpet and put the crumpled paper in front of him and smoothed it down.

 

Dear Roma

Shit, what a terrible beginning! Damn it, Roma, I cannot write goodbye letters, don’t blame me, it was all Valerica’s idea to write you, and I’m honestly one shitty writer. And anyway you already understand everything, I don’t know why I want so to throw all that’s in my head onto this paper. But, man, before I start all the talk, let’s state one thing now and for sure: if you’re reading this, I’m gone.

Okay, are we done with it yet? Only just have mercy on your hair and furniture. I don’t want anything around you ruined or you hurt, okay? I know, I know what you feel. Believe your brainless friend, I feel the same and that’s pretty much what I’m gonna ramble about. And I’m not gonna say that ‘it’ll be better this way’ or any lame stuff like this. No. And now, if you please, don’t hate me for a speech I have prepared.

First of all, forgive me. I’m not saying I should have told you. It would be the best if nobody knew, but it happened just that way and nothing can be changed now. Valerica said he didn’t want to watch my back and he’s right. Long goodbyes provide nothing but extra tears. But still forgive me. It actually hurts to let go of y’all, whatever you’re thinking now. Feel free to curse me, call me names – I know I’m a fool, a reckless fool, a dickhead, a fucker, a whatever you want to call me, but I’m also your friend – and you’re mine. Till the end, Rom. So feel free to say anything about me – just don’t abandon me. You said there’s always a place I can go to. You said I’ve got a home. And I wanna believe I do.

I know the main question you have now. You wanna know what I have to say in excuse. Romashka, man, nothing in excuse, because I believe I’m doing everything right. No matter how it hurts, it’s right. Because Mihai said that while we’re near each other we’ll keep on getting worse. And you know what I’m talking about. I don’t wanna see you like this. And you don’t wanna see me like that. Say we’ve seen worse…oh God, where are the words? They don’t work now. You know what I’m talking about.

I just want to reassure you: I won’t die. This I promise. I have a physical need to fight, if this is war. I won’t let it get to you, but I swear: I won’t die.

And one last thing. Please, you can skip everything before and just read this. Tell all the fellas. I actually love you all as brothers. You are, and forever will be, my fraţilor, my family. Everything else will pass. Only family stays. And I’m leaving my family behind, but knowing it’s there. And I will miss you – I already miss you a whole damn lot – and remember you. Even if you weren’t my best mates, and just a group I’m in, I’d still have a plenty to remember. Your voice – and it’s damn magnificent, man, no kidding, I adore how you sing, and if you remember it was your voice that woke me up to Life and Death. Also, Mihai’s genial head. Vicosh’s restless energy. Valerica’s magic fingers. Vitea playing, like, a thousand instruments, I wonder how he does it, how he keeps it all in his head. Anatol’s wonderful sense in music, his taste and energy. And even Andrei, who is gone to Rom, is forever in my memory as a wonderful drummer who could fly – and the one who showed us our powers. But you’re my family first of all.

About the family also, please, be kind to ***. She loved me, and I loved her. But tell her that I’m not the one she would wait for to return from the war. Tell her I am different from what she thought I was, and that she doesn’t need this burden in her life. Tell her I’m sorry. Tell her I tried. I know no words are good to explain what had happened to whoever. Just show her these lines.

So, Romka, remember. And tell the fellas. I can’t wrap it all in a plaid handkerchief and put into my pocket, but I put it in my heart rather. Valerica’s gorgeous smile – remember, he can disarm thousands? Vitea’s fatherliness and kindness. Mihai’s common sense and such a well-hidden love. Anatol’s funniness and Andrei’s wisdom. And your wonderful heart and romantic, poetic soul. Keep it all, fellas. Cherish it. I’ll be back and I want to have you back as I left you – the same dear fraţilor.

Love, Slava.

 

P.S. I know I overused the word ‘love’.

P.P.S. Valerica made me this cassette you see. There are some pretty useful tracks there, like Invisibility, Courage, Oblivion, Attention… plenty more. He recorded me all that, but I thought I’d leave it home. I want to do everything all by myself, I love feeding my ego, who knows better than you, ha-ha! Besides, I be such an egoist not to want the cassette to painfully remind me of you every day. I prefer the memories to wear out. The best of them stay without pain. You can tell Valera, if you choose so. Take care!

P.P.P.S. I know, this is one terrible goodbye message. I’m sorry I didn’t hug y’all. I just wanted to say – okay, writing it doesn’t seem so awkward – that I fucking love you and I’ll never forget you and you please don’t forget me. Because there is one fire guy in this world who cares – your frate you’ll one day have back home. That’s all I wanna be. And I’ll be back. That’s not farewell. That’s all you need to know.

***

\- You know what Igori told me?

\- Wha’?

\- That Vicosh was gonna go away. Right today. He’s probably gone by now, y’know? Well, I knew he was planning that shit for a while now, yet still… kinda terrible.

\- Mmyeah, - Victor drawled, glancing at Mihai. It was him who was talking. Igori was their director and good friend, and he was quite usually around – each time when they most needed being guided. He was quite like Mihai, a cool head, a strategist, but lighter in character and more easy-going and talkative. He was light on himself and the others, pretty balanced and clever – he, after all, was a true part of their team.

They were walking down the street towards the studio.

\- I’m still thinking where Ryjik might be, – Valerica remarked, glancing around. – And Romashka.

\- That’s why I actually started on Vicosh, - Mihai answered, licking his teeth. – Ryjik might have gone as well, I think. He totally could.

\- Not letting anyone know? – that was Anatol. Mihai examined him head to toe.

\- That’s what we were telling him actually, - he said a little absently.

\- Does it have to do with your… er…

\- Powers? – Mihai interrupted, looking up. – Yeah, it does. Kinda. You know, this has been quite a pain in the ass lately.

\- I noticed…

Valerica nodded.

\- You know… I still have a hope that maybe – just maybe – they’re just trying to sort something out… somewhere. In the studio, for example. Or somewhere else. You know, those powers kinda screwed our lives up…

\- After all, they’re basically discovered not so long ago, - Victor shrugged. – I mean… maybe this all has to pass… like adolescence.

\- Here’s hope, - Anatol dropped with a grin. – I’m really tired of you guys jumping at each other all the time. I mean, I just… I don’t know, you’re all such good fellas, and what you’re becoming…

\- You have the point, - Mihai admitted a little sadly. – And Vitea has. I guess. Yes, the powers are strange. You know, I basically feel like a superhero from an old comic book – sometimes. And sometimes like a savage, who’s just found fire. And doesn’t know what to do with it. We’re all burning our hands now…

\- Bright metaphors!

\- Oh shut up…

They reached the studio door and Mihai took out the key. After a few unsuccessful tries to stick it into the hole, he smirked a little.

\- Perhaps Valerica was right, ha? Somebody’s locked himself in there. Hey! – he knocked on the door. – Hey, lovey-doves, open the door!

There as a little noise and then a click of the key. The door opened wide and Romashka smiled sadly at them.

\- Ah, ‘ts you… - he said with a little shrug. – Well, okay. Go in, go in.

\- Wh… what’s wrong? – Valerica tried to catch Roman’s stare, but in vain. – Hey, Rom? You okay? Where is…

Romashka settled on the window sill, sighed quietly and looked down. A little smile appeared on his lips – but there was nothing happy about it at all.

\- He’s gone, guys, - he said quietly. – He’s gone now and for good.

Nobody needed any explanation on who ‘he’ was. And nobody needed any explanation on why ‘he’ left and where. There was a moment of silence. The guys exchanged glances…

\- Impossible, - Anatol frowned. Still, after all the talks he heard and overheard about Ryjik, he couldn’t believe.

\- Don’t say that! – Valerica burst out. – He said he’d return, so he will!

\- You all knew… - Romaska looked up at Valera, and the Martian bit his tongue. – No, no, it’s okay… somebody should have known.

\- Nobody knew exactly when, - Vitea said apologetically. – But everybody saw it coming, and you too, admit it…

\- No, really, it’s okay, - Romashka rubbed his dry eyes with the bases of his palms. – We all saw it coming and all… but now that he’s gone I kinda lost control… I think it was the power… because he went and left everything, everything to remind us about him, while he himself didn’t want to take anything to remind of us. He left me your cassette, Valerica…

There was a look of such childishly sincere and offended surprise on Valera’s face, despite everything, that Roma couldn’t help but smile a little.

\- Yeah… don’t take offence. What did he take with him, at all? His guitar. And we have places where he stood, things that he said, chairs where he sat, everything he touched and played with, my carpets he mocked me with, the air he breathed… even the woman he loved!

\- Wait, so… she’s here? – Valerica squinted. – How’d you know?

Romashka shrugged.

\- He mentioned that in his note. I’ll give it to y’all to read, quite informative… - he smirked bitterly.

\- So he left completely alone? I mean, he could leave his friends behind, but his FAMILY… - Valerica shook his head.

\- We were his family. Not only her. He left everything dear to him. He wrote in his note: ‘I’m leaving my family behind’.

He made a pause and bit his lower lip.

\- There isn’t a group any more, - that was his verdict.

Everybody exchanged glances. Anatolius wandered away to another corner of the studio. Victor blinked.

\- What do you mean? – Mihai inquired.

\- You understood me perfectly, - Romashka dropped. – The first group, before the name of Zdob Şi Zdub, was me, you, Tolik and Slavik. Ryjik was a part of the core. Now we cannot throw out any one of us, but it is special for us three. Because he was there forming the style, the group, the friendship. This was our company during the Massacre, when we were looking for each other. The new fellas changed everything, but he’d been with us since the beginning of it all. The group without him is the group without its root. The trees without roots fall over. No one can even substitute for him.

\- He promised to return, - Valerica insisted. – A temporary variant is always possible, isn’t it? Nobody’s asking us to forget Slava. He’s our bestest mate, how can we? But see, we live without Andrei, and it’s okay, we have Anatol back again, and there we go, as a team, though we remember him and miss him.

Romashka brushed it off with his hand.

\- That’s a completely another story. What’s Andrei? Yeah, he led us and we fought together, side by side, but he was there for barely a couple a’days. Ryjik was with us for years. And that nobody asks us to forget… you know what? I’d better forget. Because even we ourselves are daily reminders that he was there, that he was burning here, that we would ruffle his hair. That he was ginger. I feel him here. In his note. In the pictures we took together. There’s nobody burning here now. There’s no guitarman. And there’s no point any more.

\- Don’t say so, - Mihai said calmly, persuasively, coming up to them and sitting down on the sill beside them. – We’ll work, won’t we? We’ll sort it out. We always could. We’re still a family, we’re still strong, we will manage.

Romashka shook his head.

\- No, we won’t. There’s no point.

\- There’s always a point, - Vitea remarked, coming up to them too, followed by Anatolius. – The world doesn’t end here, Rom.

Roma glanced up at Vitea’s wide frame and shrugged helplessly.

\- I see no point in this all… here, - he held his open hand out. There was a crumpled piece of paper on it.

\- A note?

Romashka nodded.

\- His letter. You can read it out loud.

Anatol grabbed the note and unfolded it quickly. Looked through the lines and burst out:

\- Man, how can one be so freakin’ shameless?!

Mihai raised his hand preventively.

\- Just read it for us all, Tolik, will you?

Anatolius sniffed.

\- ‘Course! But, man, I must say I love Ryjik and all, and the powers are screwing you up, blah-blah-blah, but this is totally cruel! Leaving us now without a guitarman, and look at this letter! Just look! Listen!

And he began to declaim.

Everybody listened in silence. Romashka stood up and walked away to another window, stood his back to the others, pressed his forehead to the cold glass and watched the empty street.

Anatol finished reading and crumpled the poor paper again – for umpteenth time that day.

\- Well, you know, - he began, and choked. He paced towards the chair furiously, dropped onto it and wiped his face with his both hands.

\- Tolik? – Valera called, stepping towards him.

Anatol squeezed the bridge of his nose with his fingers.

\- Now man, I don’t know, - he managed, and nothing sounded in his trembling voice, except for childish offense. He wasn’t about to cry, but there was sure a lump in his throat.

Valerica came up to him and put his hand softly on his shoulder.

\- The-ere…

Anatol sniffed and said nothing. Valerica glanced around helplessly. Vitea shrugged at his stare. Mihai met his look and some unusual line appeared between his eyebrows. He pressed his lips together and stood up sharply.

\- How much more useless fucking tears do I have to see with this group?!

Such a tone wasn’t quite the one usually heard from Mihai outside the rehearsals. Everybody looked at him. Mihai examined everybody, turning slowly around, and something in his face was so strange that nobody dared say a word. Mihai made sure all the eyes were on him and finally let out:

\- Yeah, how much more?! You, I don’t know how even to call you, you just sit there wailing at everything that happens! Where are my fighters? Where is my fucking team?! Where are my friends, I’m asking ya?! This one, - he pointed his finger at Romashka, making him back off a little, with an expressively surprised face, - this one is telling us that Ryjik is the dearest one and life without him just ends here. Why didn’tcha tie him down then, you fucking jerk?! Why are you still with us, go marry him and hide him away, why not?!

Romashka rolled his eyes.

\- This one, - Mihai turned sharply and his finger moved to Anatol, - is damn weeping, look at ‘im! Just look, and this is the shit-bitten man to fight, this is the man who wanted so to beat the hell outta Slava!

Anatol rose sharply. His face was red, but rather with fury.

\- Shut – the fuck – up, - he hissed.

\- And I say – you shut your cakehole, and what can you DO?!

That was probably the first time they heard Mihai really shout with anger. Valerica backed off, his stare at Vitea calling for help. Vitea could just shrug and shake his head a little, making big eyes. Until there was fight, he didn’t want to touch them. In fact, that was the way to sort it out.

Mihai stepped at Anatol. He was thinner, he was a tad taller and he was most probably weaker, but the righteous anger burning in his eyes gave him the strength and the courage.

\- Close your fucking mouth, or I swear something will happen, - Mihai continued, back to quiet voice, but not less menacing. – You, you all just keep the fuck crying instead of doing something. You, the celebrated first team – go on, let’s see what you can do alone! Look at Vitea, whom Roman totally forgot to mention, and yet who saved his beloved Slavochka, who keeps protecting us, who considers us his family. Look at ‘im, he loves us more than anyone, is he crying?

\- Misha, - Vitea tried, but Mihai turned to him sharply, in one animal move.

\- Hush, I am trying to straighten these fuck-bitten dickheads out, these teammates of mine, who suddenly got too big for their boots, I’m ashamed I am the one of the first team!

\- Don’t say that, - Vitea said softly. – Please don’t, you’ll regret it later. They’re just thrown off by this all, man, they’ll be fine.

\- You BET they will, - Mihai sniffed. – After I knock all that nonsense outta their motherfucking beans, somebody oughta do that earlier! You two, look at me!

But Romashka and Anatolius were watching him. He made sure their eyes were on him and crossed his arms on his chest.

\- And now look at the little one! Look at Vitea. Look at those special ones and tell me, how are you better than them? I’m waiting, you tell me!

\- I never said we were better, - Romashka said calmly.

\- Ah but you meant! – Mihai’s burning stare pierced Roman through, seeing his every thought, noticing every single little thing of him giving away the hidden. – You meant, and don’t you dare say you didn’t. I’m going away, and if you two don’t pick your pieces of mind wherever you lost’em by the evening, I’m off with Vitica and Valerica. I said what I wanted. G’bye.

He didn’t even notice he called Valerica ‘the little one’ – the way he only called him in his thoughts, as the youngest member and the purest soul. He straightened and went towards the door, catching Valerica on his way, putting his arm around the Martian’s shoulders and leading him out of the studio. Valera looked over his shoulder helplessly. Romashka was examining the carpet on the floor with the great interest, licking his teeth with his mouth closed, Anatol sat back down into the armchair, biting his lips and breathing heavily, and Vitea followed them with his worried stare until Mihai slammed the door behind his back.

In the street Mihai didn’t let go of Valerica, so the Martian just walked by him, looking away. They reached Mihai’s home quickly and Mihai let Valera go in first, then quietly and carefully closed the door behind them both and stopped.

\- So, there, - he said with a sigh.

\- Ummm, yeah, - Valera decided to say, not really knowing how to react.

Mihai sighed again and looked around a bit lazily.

\- Say whatever you wish to me. I wanna listen to you.

Valera bit his lower lip a little.

\- You know, - he decided finally. – You’re right.

Mihai glanced at him curiously.

\- Mm, really?

\- Yep, - Valera nodded seriously. – You know, I looked at Roma and Anatol and was just surprised, it so not like them to give up just like that! But it’s not the first time I notice Roma get out of balance so easily and, you know… - he was looking for words, but they all seemed to disappear. Mihai nodded reassuringly.

\- Yeah, yeah, I understand.

\- And, you see, I was thinking… - he paused. Mihai was looking straight at him now. Valerica took a breath and finished his thought: - I was thinking that maybe it’s the magic turning – what, I don’t remember, black or blue? Continuing its influence. It is screwing everything up, we all noticed. I mean, there’s something weird going on with power…

Mihai scratched his little beard thoughtfully.

\- Yeah, I was thinking about this, too, - he confessed in a little while. – This could be an explanation. For Romashka.

Valera nodded.

\- For Roma, yes. Tolik was just really carried away, don’t blame him. Or maybe we are contagious… - he smiled bitterly. Mihai nodded slowly.

\- You know, I can check that, - he said finally, and looked up at Valera. He raised his eyebrows.

\- Really? Man, why haven’t you yet?!

\- You see, sometimes I think we better off not knowing, - Mihai smiled. – Come on, do you want something? A beer? Or maybe just coffee? Knock it off for a few minutes, mkay?

\- Make me some tea, - Valerica threw, following Mihai to the kitchen. – Do you have black?

\- Yeah, ‘course, - Mihai replied quickly. – You sit down.

Mihai’s kitchen was quite a mess, but he didn’t seem to pay attention, so Lera didn’t bother, either. He sat down at the table and took an issue of some music magazine of those tossed all around.

\- Don’t even try this one, it’s crappy, - Mihai remarked, glancing at Valerica as he put a kettle on and headed slowly towards the table. – So, you see, why I don’t really want to check Romashka’s power. It’s all because I can not clean it for him anyway. I don’t know what to do with my discovery, whatever it is inside him. I’m a diagnostician, y’see. That’s all. And if everything is okay with power, I don’t wanna get disappointed in my friends. See my problem?

\- But we have to know, - Valera said unsurely, examining the scratches on the table.

\- Probs…

Mihai sat down in front of Valerica and smiled a little at him.

\- They’ll be bitchin’, - he said softly. – Everything always will be bitchin’ at the end. I look at Roma and I see he will be fine. I told him what I thought, he’ll listen to me. Always did, always will. By the evening they will all be back to sane. Or at least by morning. Though, not gonna lie, I worry about the powers of ours… are you feeling okay?

Valera reached to pull off his bandanna and nodded, ruffling his own bristling light hair.

\- Yeah, totally.

Mihai nodded.

\- Good. I hope now that Slava’s away we’ll all make more sense. However I miss him, he really bothered me…

Valera picked the varnish on the table top.

\- You know, - he dared finally, - I’m not saying anything, I just wonder… is there a possibility that Slava’s power will become black there, where he went, while he’s alone?

And he quickly ‘spat’ over his left shoulder and knocked his knuckles on the wooden table three times. Not that he was superstitious, did that just out of habit. Mihai licked his lips.

\- Well, - he said after a pause, - I don’t know much about that power we have… all I know is that Slava learned to control himself pretty well, and I also know that the fury can help him beat over any enemy. Hush! – he raised his head preventively, seeing Valerica open his mouth. – Quiet. I’m not saying this can do him good. It’s really dangerous. I’m just saying that in that particular task a little bit of righteous anger of a fire guy might just help him. But let’s analyze overall, together.

Valera nodded. Mihai put his palms together, fingertip to fingertip.

\- Now look. When I checked Slava’s power, I saw the blackness in him coming from doubt. This is the talent my power gave me: I can diagnose the power problems. Remember, it all started when he wanted to go, but Andrei persuaded him to stay. That’s the root of the doubt. Every day he had to face the choice: whether to stay or to leave. And all that time we, I think, were artificially holding him back. We were worried. We were overly caring for him, and he didn’t want that. We were like mother birds, and he’s a grown up man. We probably had to set him free, but we held him, because we listened to Andrei, and because we didn’t want to hurt Romashka, or you, or anybody of us. We didn’t take him in consideration, because there were many of us, and he was alone. And we thought it would be better. But the power needs to go out. And sometimes music, burning hair and sexual activities aren’t enough… - he smiled sadly. – That was our mistake, Valerica. We tried to tame the fire guy. We are the fools. But now he can unleash all the power he has. I hope it will clean him up. Sounds quite logical to me, hm?

Valera smiled.

\- You say it all so well… you know, I believe you. He doesn’t have to doubt now. He told us everything: that he doesn’t have to care there, that he can be reckless enough, that he has only himself to rely on…

\- Yeah, yeah, yeah…

They sat in silence for quite a while, until the kettle started whistling, calling desperately for attention.

\- You know, - Valerica said as Mihai turned off the oven and was pouring hot water into the big cups, - I’m just only worried about Sveatik’s wife… like, you know, he just left her and… how will she bear?

\- We’ll pay her a visit, - Mihai reassured with a smile. – I guess that’ll be a good idea. After all, he was a bright lad, him… even though really loving. She didn’t leave a note for her… I guess she’ll be hating him right by the time we decide. Though we’re not gonna delay, are we?

Valerica nodded.

\- Yeah, not half bad… I just hope it doesn’t hurt her this much… after all, it seemed they loved each other so… though, have to admit, a bright lad he was.

They drank strong tea and talked about Sveatik and the new team – the desperate need of a guitarman, the style that Sveatik didn’t like and what they were about to do next.

In the evening Romashka and Anatol knocked at Mihai’s door and they sat on the front porch in three, discussing everything that had happened and agreeing that Sveatik’s better off alone. Romashka didn’t look much better, but now Mihai was more worried than angry. The peace was restored once again. But God only knew that not for long.


End file.
